In the Claws of an Angel ::Wolverine::
by t0ritee
Summary: Anabelle is a young woman just discovering her abilities as a telekinetic. She knows little about her mutation or how to control it, only that mutants have been all over the news with savage reputations. When Anabelle flees her abusive home, she survives 7 lonely months... Until she meets Logan, a rugged, mysterious mutant, trying to recover his memory of who he is... WOLVERINEXOC
1. Prologue

AN:: Hey guys! before I start this new story, I just want to say that I haven't put my Daryl Dixon story on hold.. I'm still very involved in it and doing my best to actively update (:

But, I'm a die hard X-Men fan, and I loooove me some Wolverine ((Hugh Jackman, hubba hubba ;D)) and all these previews for the new movie coming out have inspired this idea. So I'll be going back and forth between updating each story (:

::PROLOGUE::

"There have been more and more reports of mutant sightings in Portland, as well as other cities all across the country..."

The news droned in the background of my room from my small, box TV with the fuzzy picture.

I could hear it and understand it, but mostly it was just noise... I was more focused on the purple pen that was laying on the desk in front of me.

My ice blue eyes were glued to it, and I thought hard, willing the pen to move.

I know, I sound crazy... But I swear to you, I'd done it before. Moved things without touching them, I mean... With my mind.

The problem was, I had no idea how I did it.

"Move..." I whispered to the pen, "Moooove..."

It didn't budge. I narrowed my eyes and tensed each muscle in my body, putting every last ounce of physical and mental energy I had into making that pen move... But I had no luck.

With a sigh of defeat, I flopped back in my chair and turned my eyes to the news. The anchor, a blonde woman with thin lips and dark eyes, was still talking about mutants.

"...Would like to warn the public that although most mutants look like regular people, they are very dangerous." The woman's voice was very serious, and she shuffled through some papers in front of her. " You are strongly advised to avoid the red areas, or Hot Spots, as shown on this map. These are the areas that mutants are most commonly seen... Parents are urged to keep children indoors after dark, and be sure to-"

I frowned as I reached up and pressed the power button at the bottom of my TV. Ever since the attack on the White House almost a month ago was linked to mutants, the United States was worked up into a frenzy.

All you could ever expect to hear on the news were stories about mutants who used their abilities to rob banks, steal cars, destroy public property... or even murder.

The previously peaceful world was now divided into two classes, human and mutant... and we were at war, whether we wanted to be or not.

I hated hearing about all the horrible things mutants did, because over the past two or three weeks, I had been showing signs that I was... one of them. A mutant.

As much as the idea terrified me, I was slowly coming to the realization that I couldn't change my DNA... So I would have to accept it, somehow.

I looked back at the pen, thinking that maybe if I tried to catch myself off guard I could trigger whatever it was that would make it move... Nothing. But I knew I could do it.

When it first happened two weeks ago, I had been in the family room folding laundry. Troy, my mother's angry, drunken boyfriend, had walked into the room and seen that one of his white t-shirts had been thrown in with the colors, and had been turned pale pink.

He and I had gotten into a spat over it, which I was usually good at avoiding... My main defense was to stay quiet and unnoticed, biting my tounge and keeping my opinions to myself to prevent confrontation. I was meek and shy by nature, but just like everyone else, I had my breaking points.

When Troy had called me an 'ignorant wench' as a comeback to my telling him he wouldn't have to worry about his shirts if he washed them himself, I thought that had been the end of the arguement.

But of course it hadn't been. He proceeded to kick the four piles of neatly folded laundry all over the living room, finishing everything off by dumping the rest of his warm beer over the clothes closest to him, which happened to be sprawled across the recliner... lovely.

"Guess you'll just have to do it again." He had growled down at me, "Get it right this time... Clean this chair up, too."

I had stayed quiet while Troy turned and left the room. His footsteps pounded down the hall, and I flinched at the sound of his bedroom door slamming.

At first, I didn't move. I had been too angry... I spent my entire day doing all of our laundry after a double shift at the bar the day before. I was exhausted, and Troy had just given me an extra three hours of work.

With a frustrated sigh, I had reluctantly stood up and began gathering the clothes again. I started to get a headache, and the more I thought about how much of an inconsiderate jackass Troy was, the worse the pain became.

It didn't take long before the pressure crushing my head became too much, forcing me to sit down on the couch. I groaned and pressed my fingers into my temples, but relief didn't come.

I lowered my hands from my temples and stood up from the couch, on my way to the kitchen to get some Advil... But I immediately froze in my tracks when my eyes took in the room.

All of the laundry, as well as the laundry basket, was floating... As if gravity had been turned off.

My eyes felt like they were glued open, and I couldn't look away. It was like I was in a strange dream. I must have stood there staring at the impossible for at least a full minute, before the sound of the master bedroom door slamming again jarred me back into reality.

The clothes and the basket crashed back to the floor before my eyes, just as Troy came stomping through again on his way to the kitchen. He halted and glared around the room at the clothes, then at me.

"You still haven't got this shit picked up?" was all he had said before disappearing into the kitchen.

I said nothing as I bent down and began picking up the shirts and pants, only listened to the sound of the refrigerator door opening. The jingling of bottles clanking together came next, which meant Troy was grabbing another beer.

I ignored him as he passed by again, shutting himself back into the bedroom. That was that for the night...

Shortly after that had happened, the stories of mutants began to blow up the news, and I was able to put two and two together... It was me that made the laundry float, it had to have been... I just didn't know how I did it.

I was a mutant... To this day, sitting in my room staring at this purple pen, I couldn't make it or anything else move on my own... it only happened when my emotions spiked, which was usually after a fight with my mom or Troy, or at work during a stressful shift.

Amazingly, though, I had kept this strange ability of mine secret from everyone around me.

I finally gave up on the pen, and stood up from my chair. I flopped down on my bed... Just as the electricity cut out, leaving the house dim and quiet.

I was confused for a second, peering around my room. It was only about six o'clock in the evening, so there was still just a little bit of sunlight showing through my curtains. Then suddenly, it hit me.

"Shit, the electric bill...!" I gasped and began rumaging under my bed, searching for my box of bills. Finally, I pulled it out and found the most current electric bill.

It was the final notice that the power would be disconnected if $89.65 wasn't paid by May 7th... Which was today.

I cursed quietly. How could I forget to pay the electric bill? Now I was screwed, I was completely broke until pay day, which was a week away.

I groaned and pushed myself off my bed to head out to the kitchen. I was sure I'd hear it from Troy...

My mom was already on my ass before I could even make it down the hallway.

"What the hell, Ana?!" She screeched at me in her slightly raspy voice, "Did you forget to pay the damn bill?! Troy's gonna have a fit!"

She was sitting on the couch in her mint green robe. Her stringy blonde hair was tied up in a pony tail, a magazine was open in her lap, and a cigrette was lit in between her fingers. The room was dim, but I could see the nasty scowl on her face, wrinkled and aged from years of smoking and binge drinking.

"Yes, mom, I forgot to pay the bill..." I grumbled my confession as I turned right at the end of the hall and crossing the kitchen floor, "I think we have some candles around here somewhere."

I heard my mom scoff, then turn the page of her magazine. "You better hope so."

I rolled my eyes as I opened the first of our many junk drawers.

"Thanks for the help, mom..." I muttered to myself.

But really, I wasn't surprised with her attitude. It was exactly the same as it had always been, and I didn't expect it to change anytime soon.

Right as I pulled the second drawer open, the front door swung open right along with it. Troy was home early from the bar. My stomach fluttered as I heard my mom greet him... Her voice was sweet and sincere, much different than the harsh way she spoke to me.

It made me sick, and honestly, it hurt.

Sure enough, Troy held up to his dirtbag ways and completely ignored my mom's greeting. Instead, he slammed the front door and immediately jiggled the lightswitch to his left.

"The hell's goin' on?" He demanded in a whiskey soaked slur.

"Anabelle didn't pay the bill." My mom didn't even hesitate to throw me under the bus.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Troy roared abruptly, then stumbled to the doorframe of the kitchen. He braced his hands on either side of the frame to hold his body up. "Are you... KIDDING me, Anabelle?!"

I ignored him. My blood was boiling. I wanted to turn around and tell him he was a grown ass man, that he needed to put down the bottle and get a damn job. I wanted to tell him he was a waste of space, a useless sack of skin that was just dead weight in society... But of course I held my tounge, and just kept searching for those candles.

This just added fuel to Troy's drunken rage, sending him parading through the house in the dark. I could hear him cursing and smashing anything and everything he got his hands on. My mom followed Troy into every room, apologizing and begging him to calm down.

"That airhead daughter of yours is wearing on my last nerve, Charlene," Troy growled, fighting back burps and hiccups. My mom apologized. "She needs to learn a thing or two, or I'm gonna teach her dumb ass."

"I'm sorry, honey..." My mom cowered under him, and I had had enough.

I was buried in the third drawer on my search for candles, but my radiating anger burned down to my fingertips and I slammed the drawer shut, causing a loud *BANG*.

"Why the hell are you apologizing to him, mom?!" I had screeched at my mother, who pretended to be shocked at my outburst. I knew she knew what she was doing wasn't right... "Why do you let that asshole talk about me like that...?!"

"You better watch your mouth, girl." Troy growled at me. He swayed back and forth from intoxication, pointing a stubby finger at me.

"Fuck you." I spat at my step-dad... it made me sick to think of him as anything even remotely close to my father.

"Anabelle-!" My mom gasped, but her voice was cut out by the loud *CRACK* of the back of Troy's hand making contact with my cheek.

It had happened so fast, I didn't even know what hit me at first... But when I stumbled to the side, lost my footing, and smashed my forehead against the kitchen counter, it all came to me at once.

I sat on the floor up against the outdated cabinets, bleeding from my mouth and the gash in my forehead. My cheek was on fire, painfully throbbing where I'd been hit.

My eyes followed Troy's back while he pushed my mom out of the kitchen and into the living room, cursing at her about me the whole time.

The electric bill hadn't been paid because I was the only one with a job in the house, and it was just a shitty waitressing/bartending job. The majority of my money went to Troy and my mother's alcohol and cigarette addiction, as well as each of their social security checks. It was a God send that the house was already paid for, or else we would have probably been homeless, too.

Troy and my mom were each in their fifties and I had just turned twenty-six, and all I had to show for my life was a small, square bedroom with a bed, dresser, and tiny TV, my dead end job, and all my scars and bruises that I was forced to endure if I wanted to hold onto my mother, the only blood I had left...

But as much as it killed me to say it, I knew she wasn't much to fight for.

I had no bank account, no car... I had lost my apartment when I was twenty-four to move back home because I felt sorry for my mother, so I supported her, as horrible as she treated me... And she just happened to come with a leech.

My heart pounded as these thoughts raced through my mind, and the taste of blood in my mouth only fueled my anger.

Right when I felt like I would scream from my rage boiling over the edge, something from across the kitchen levitated from its resting place, then rocketed towards the wall.

I flinched and instinctively threw my arms over my face at the loud crash of shattering glass. Once there was quiet again, I lowered my arms back to my sides and searched the dreary kitchen for what had been broken.

My eyes scanned the counter tops and the floor, and finally I found the pile of glass shards laying at the bottom of the fridge. There was a small bunch of dead, dried up flowers soaking in a puddle of murky water underneath the glass.

I blinked at the mess in astonishment. It was a mason jar... at least, it used to be... And just a few minutes ago, it had been sitting safely in the middle of the dinner table.

It had happened again... My strange ability always seemed to kick in when I least expected it.

"How the hell...?" I whispered to myself as I racked my mind for any answer as to how I could possibly be doing this.

I was just relieved that neither my mom nor Troy had been in the kitchen to see it...

My eyes snapped to the doorframe as I thought of the two of them, expecting to see one or the other rushing back to the kitchen and demanding to know what all the noise was.

But as I listened, I could hear their muffled yells coming from down the hall and behind the master bedroom door. I caught a lucky break... neither of them heard the jar shatter.

I gripped the edge of the counter and pulled myself up off the floor. By now my eyes were adjusted to the dark, so I quickly made my way to the sink and turned on the cold water.

I splashed my face a few times to rinse away some of the blood, then reached for a rag to dry my skin.

I winced as I brushed the rag against my tender, bruised cheek and busted lip. They were sore but I ignored it... By now I was used to physical pain.

This wasn't the first time I'd been hit by Troy, and I knew it wouldn't be the last... So I shoved every thought out of my mind and focused on carefully picking up the larger chunks of glass from the floor.

Even though I tried my hardest to clear my head, I just couldn't. My hands trembled in anger. I was ashamed of myself for just letting Troy treat me that way... And I was angry that there wasn't much I could do about it.

Suddenly, I heard the master bedroom door creak open again, and footsteps start to thump down the hall. My breath caught in my throat as the old floorboards creaked under the weight.

I kept my eyes on the floor, but soon a pair of worn out work boots crowded my vision.

"Breakin' more of my shit...?" He growled at me, and I automatically looked up at him in a glare.

I opened my mouth to say something back, but before I could get one word out, something rough sharply made contact with my face... It was the bottom of Troy's boot.

The unexpected blow tossed me backwards, throwing most of the glass from my hands. A few shards clung to my palms, slicing into my skin as they braced my impact on the floor. I cried out as the intense, burning pain.

Troy staggered closer to me, his dark brown eyes foggy and intoxicated. I whimpered as I scooted myself backwards in a pitiful attempt to get away from him, but my back just ended right back up against the cabinents.

I could feel fresh blood dripping from my nose and pooling in the corner of of my mouth. As I glanced down at the floor, I could see dark red smears on the dingy tile from my sliced up palms.

"MmmmHow're you gonna... make up forr how you didn't pay... for the bill...?" Troy babbled to me in a drunken haze. My eyes shot to his hands as they fumbled with his belt buckle.

"Troy, no." I urged him, shaking my head of long dark hair.

He was violent, yes. But things had never gone this far, and it was terrifying.

"Maybe... ifnnnnyou do me a favor... Gosh, I betchu look juss like yer..." He paused to hiccup. Troy was getting closer, his belt completely undone now. He moved on to his zipper. "...Mama used to..."

My breathing quickened as I tried to scramble to my feet, but my body just wasn't responding the way I needed it to.

"Don't, Troy...!" I begged him as he grabbed for my hair, but I dodged his unsteady hand, "Stop!"

He snatched at my head again, and this time I wasn't quick enough. I screeched as I felt his stubby fingers tangle themselves in my hair, yanking my head toward his groin, which he was about to fully expose.

My heart felt like it was going to explode. I paniced and thrashed about, trying to free myself. Troy demanded that I hold still, and tightened his grip on my hair.

I stared in horror as he began to inch his pants downward with his free hand, but I couldn't bear to watch it all. I squeezed my tear filled eyes shut before I saw anything too gruesome, and let out an ear splitting scream.

I heard the sound of something scraping against the tile and lifting off the floor, and then what sounded like gurgling coming from Troy, who stood over me. Slowly, his fingers loosened their grip on my hair, and I opened my eyes as he slumped down on the tile in front of me.

I was in shock at what I was looking at. Troy was laying on the tile, staring up the ceiling. Four large shards of glass from before were lodged deep into his throat, blood pulsating from each puncture. Troy's lips gaped open and closed like a goldfish, searching for air. After a few seconds, his lips stopped moving... And I knew he was dead.

I was horrified, but at the same time, I took pleasure in watching Troy die slowly on the kitchen floor right in front of me... and I took even more pleasure in knowing it was me who had caused his death.

When I heard another set of footsteps rushing down the hall, my brain remembered how to work my legs again and I jumped up.

I dashed from the kitchen and down the opposite hallway without my mother realizing. I shut my bedroom door and locked it behind me, trying to block out the sounds of my mother's screams from the kitchen.

My body ran on pure adrenaline as I grabbed the handle of my closet door and yanked it open. I reached up on the top shelf and pulled down my old red and white duffel bag from my high school volleyball team, and tossed it onto the bed.

I knew with all the screaming, the police would be in my driveway soon, and I couldn't be anywhere near the house when they got there... My finger prints were all over the glass that had killed Troy.

I had to leave, now. Tonight.

So I rushed around my tiny room, tossing things into the bag like clothes; two pairs of jeans, one pair of shorts, two tank tops, a t-shirt, a handful each of socks, underwear, and bras, and a pair of pajamas; my cell phone and it's charger, the contents of my secret snack bin hidden under my bed, a flashlight, and my switchblade pocket knife.

I shoved my feet into my ratty pair of plain black converse cut offs, laced them up, and grabbed my soft gray jacket off the back of my desk chair.

I took one last look around the room that I was leaving behind forever, and wouldn't miss. Then I jumped up onto my bed and walked across the mattress to the only window in the room.

I dropped to my knees ontop of my old blue comforter and undid the latch on my window. It slid up easily, and as I looked at the grass right below me on the outside, I felt relieved that we only had one floor to our house.

I stepped one foot out the window and onto the grass, and as soon as the other hit the ground, I shut the window and bolted to straight into the

thick woods that was behind my house.

I had been right about the police. I could hear their sirens in the distance, heading straight in the direction of my now former home. But, I just kept on running, not worrying about them in the least. I'd be long gone before they pulled into the driveway.

As I sprinted through the woods like a wild animal that had been freed from a cage, I realized that my life was changing, and things were never going to be the same again.

I just didn't know if it would be for better, or for worse...

AN:: Okay, there's the prologue! The next chapter will be where the actual story starts.

Pretty please, review and let me know what you think so far (: I know there was no wolverine in the prologue, but he'll show up soon.

Oh, and please please pleeease check out my Daryl Dixon story! Thanks so much for your support! xx


	2. Chapter One

-Seven months later.-

"Miss?"

I could feel the warmth of sunshine on my face as my eyes creaked open from a less than peaceful slumber. I peered around me and saw the worn, old red leather interior of a truck.

I groaned, still half asleep, and rolled away from the hand on my shoulder that was gently shaking me. When I didn't sit up, the hand shook a little faster. "Miss?"

For some reason, that was enough to jar me completely awake. I bolted up-right in the seat, my eyes wide. I whirled my head to the left as the hand flew from my shoulder, and I saw a man in his late fifties wearing a straw hat, a pair of dusty overalls and a red flannel shirt. He was holding his hands up in front of him defensively, and I suddenly remembered where I was and how I got there.

The man's name was Otis, and he was a farmer from somewhere in the middle of Mississippi. He had been the only vehicle to stop for me as I thumbed my way down the interstate miles and miles back, which I didn't even know the name of... I just knew I was in Mississippi.

"Sorry, you startled me..." I grumbled to Otis as I rubbed my eyes, and he lowered his hands. "Are we still in Mississippi?"

"Just barely," The old farmer replied while opening the driver's side door, "This here's just a little town I get my chicken feed from, right on the state boarder... 'Fraid I ain't goin' much farther than this, fixin' to turn back for home once I get my feed."

I nodded and gathered my duffle bag from the passenger side floorboard, placing my hand on the doorhandle.

"That's alright." I said to Otis as I popped the door open, "You've already been a big help. I'd still be stuck back there on the interstate if you hadn't of stopped for me. I can figure something out from here."

"You sure you're gonna be okay, miss?" He asked me from across the bench seat of the truck. He knew my name was Anabelle, but still called me 'Miss'. "You got family 'round these parts or somethin'?"

I tried to hide the sadness in my smile as I flashed it over to the farmer.

"No, but I've been on my own for a while now... I'll manage."

Otis looked genuinely concerned, but only responded with a simple nod of his head.

With that, each of us hopped out of the truck, and slammed our doors shut. It was about mid-morning, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, not to mention the heat it was casting down on us. I squinted a little bit under the bright rays.

I took a second to take in my surroundings. We were parked out in front of a large blue building that looked a little like a barn. Right above the door was a sign that read 'Corey's Farm Mart'.

The feed store seemed to be located right in the middle of the quaint little town. There were people roaming the sidewalks, peeking into store fronts or deciding on a place to eat for lunch.

Tall, leafy trees casted shade over cars and trucks parallel parked in the streets, next to the sidewalk. It was such a cozy little place, it felt full of life, and all its people seemed so happy... I felt a pang of sadness in my heart, knowing I didn't fit into a place like this.

I took one last glance at Otis's old red pick up truck before bidding him farewell, and turning on my heel to leave... But I didn't take even one step before he called out to me.

"Be careful in your travels, now," He said to me, "There's a lot of weirdos out there."

I didn't say anything back. Instead, I just nodded my head, waved to Otis, and went along my way.

I sighed as I stared ahead, knowing I didn't have to worry about any 'weirdos'.

As far as society was concerned, I was one of them...

xxxxxx

I didn't have to walk far to find a gas station, maybe only two or three blocks before I could see the pumps up ahead.

There was a single car parked at one of the four pumps. It was a small silver sedan... a Ford Focus, or something. I noticed the driver wasn't anywhere to be seen as I passed the car, and just assumed that he or she had gone inside to buy a drink or pay for gas.

A small bell hanging over the door jingled cheerfully as I pushed it open and walked inside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee immediately rushed to me, and my mouth watered.

I absolutely loved a hot cup of coffee loaded with cream and sugar, but it was way too expensive, and I never had more than a dollar or so on me... Coffee also wasn't the easiest thing to steal, which was how I had been shamefully surviving for almost eight months.

"Good afternoon, sweetie." The cashier greeted me from behind the register in a thick southern drawl.

I turned to look at her. She was a thin woman with thick, dark hair that was starting to gray slightly. Her hazel colored eyes were hidden behind a pair of wire rimmed glasses.

I glanced down at the name tag clipped to her red 'GoGo Express' vest and read the name PEGGY.

"Hi..." I replied back to her with a shy smile. Sometimes I hated how awkward and meek I was. "Um... do you have a restroom...?"

Peggy nodded and pointed to the back left corner of the small store. I thanked her and headed back in that direction. On my way, I passed by a middle aged man wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and an orange t-shirt, who was browsing through the store's selection of sunglasses. I assumed he was the owner of the silver car outside.

I shifted my duffle bag from one side to the other to avoid mowing the stranger down in the narrow aisle, and finally located the restroom. The rusty hinges creeked as I opened the door, then they creaked again as I locked myself inside.

I dropped my duffle bag on the floor next to the mirror, avoiding looking at my reflection for as long as possible. I knew I looked like hell, but that was why I was in this bathroom; To fix that.

I crouched beside the bag and quickly unzipped it. I snatched out a ziplock baggie which held my toothbrush and toothpaste, my hairbrush, one of my travel sized shampoos, and my make up bag... All of which had been stolen from a Wal-Mart back in Texas somewhere. I wasn't proud of stealing at all, but I was good at it.

I stood up, tossed everything on the ledge of the sink, and finally peered at my reflection.

I watched myself cringe at the sight of my greasy hair tied up in a ratty ponytail, and the puffy bags under my eyes. It had been a few days since I'd had a chance to freshen up.

First, a pulled my toothbrush and toothpaste from the plastic baggie, getting the first task done in record time.

After my toothbrush was thoroughly rinsed and dried, I dropped it back into the baggie with the toothpaste, then set it aside and moved onto my hair.

"Time to tame the beast..." I muttered while gripping the hair tie that held my pony tail in place.

My hair barely budged from the pony tail shape, and my face twisted up in disgust at the sight of it.

I averted my eyes from my gruesome reflection, and focused on twisting both the hot and cold water on in the sink instead. I tweaked it to just the right warm temperature, then dunked my head under the running water.

A sigh of content escaped my lips as the water rushed over my head and soaked my hair. Now I just needed the shampoo.

I reached my hand up and felt around for the small bottle... Until my finger tips bumped it and sent it clattering to the floor. I let out a frustrated sigh, knowing if I bent down to get it, my wet mop of hair would soak my shirt.

Not to mention I was just too lazy.

"Dammit..." I cursed as I peered at the fallen bottle out of the corner of my eye.

Then, I remembered my mutation. Even after almost eight months, it was still so new and strange to me. Sometimes I forgot about it completely.

I still hadn't exactly mastered my control of it, and it still seemed to spike with my emotions, but I was making progress.

I took a deep breath and held my hand out toward the bottle. At first it didn't budge, so I thought harder about it moving, staring straight at it.

Suddenly it wobbled a bit, and my heart leapt into my throat. A wide smile spread across my face as the shampoo bottle levitated its way toward my outstetched fingers, as if it were floating in zero gravity.

A triumphant feeling rushed over me as I closed my hand around the bottle. I had done it! Now I just had to learn to do that all the time.

I quickly squeezed some of the strawberry scented shampoo into my palm and scrubbed into my hair, inhaling the heavenly aroma.

I rinsed the suds from my hair as quickly as possible, wrung most of the moisture out, then turned and pressed my palm against the hand dryer. I tossed my head around under the warm air, drying my long locks just until they were damp.

Now I just had to slap on my make-up, and I was out of there. I quickly dabbed concealer under my eyes,brushed some pale, loose powder all over my face, and boardered my eyes with my black eyeliner pencil. I added a thick coat of dark mascara, the finishing touch.

I gazed at my new reflection, looking like a totally different girl. My dark hair was clean and wavy, though still damp. The eyeliner made my ice blue eyes pop against my pale face, and my eyelashes were now full and dark.

I sighed in relief and actually saw my pale pink lips curve into a smile.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. It startled me a little bit, causing me to flinch.

"J-just a second...!" I called out to the unknown person on the other side of the door, then shoved the ziplock full of all my beauty products back into the duffle bag.

I skipped the zipper and just yanked the bag up off the floor. I tossed it over my shoulder, unlocked the door, and dodged a very eager old woman as she pushed passed me. I rolled my eyes and made my way back into the store.

Luckily, the cashier was busy with a phone call, and I was able to stuff a few bags of chips and a bottle of water into my bag without her noticing.

Then, I slipped out the door, and disappeared without a trace.

I walked fast, trying to get as far away from the gas station as possible. After maybe forty five minutes, I came across a small thrift store on the edge of town. From there, the main road strayed into another open, barren highway.

I glanced at the road in front of me, then back to the store. I chewed my bottom lip in contemplation... All of my tops were pretty much ruined, most of them ripped and stained...

So, I made the decision to make a pit stop and use my five finger discount to get a few more shirts. Then, I'd be on my way.

The inside of the store was small but jam packed full of racks of clothes. Perfect.

The ditzy looking blonde working the cash register had her eyes buried in an old Cosmo magazine, and didn't even bother looking up at me... Even better.

There were two other women in the store with me, a mother and her teenaged daughter. I ducked behind a rack of dresses and eavesdropped on their conversation while simultaneously stuffing tank tops that looked like my size into my duffle bag.

"What about this, Mama?" The teen asked in the same southern drawl that everyone around here had.

"That's adorable! It would go real nice with those black pants you have." Came the mother's reply.

The two of them kept chattering about things like boys, school and the clothes they were showing each other. I smiled softly to myself... but I didn't feel happy.

Sadness and a little jealousy pulsated through my veins as I listened to the giggles and loving tones the mother and daughter used toward each other... Something I had never shared with my own mother. I felt cheated, and I had felt that way for years and years...

"Mama, what's goin' on?" I heard the teenager gasp suddenly. She sounded afraid...

And that's when I came back to reality, and noticed all the racks of clothes in the store were shaking. I felt my stomach drop, realizing I had let my sadness get the better of me, and my telekinesis was starting to fester.

I tried my best to control it, but that never worked, only made it worse. The girl and her mother screamed as an entire rack of jeans lifted from the floor and rocketed toward the front window. The deafening sound of the glass shattering was finally enough to catch the cashier's attention.

She abandoned her magazine and rushed out from behind the front counter, but I wasn't going to wait around for anything. I bolted straight for the door and shoved my way through it, feeling like I could have shattered that, too.

I kept running down the highway, as fast as my legs would carry me. I never looked back toward the small town, just kept my eyes forward. They were stinging with angry tears that were soon streaming down my face, but I didn't care.

I was just so sick of running. Sick of hiding, sick of stealing, sick of lying... Sick of not knowing the feeling of belonging...

Sick of being a freak.

xxxxxx

The sun was beginning to sink below the trees that boardered the interstate, giving me some much needed relief from the heat.

I had been strolling along the old, empty road for a few hours now. So far, not a soul had passed me by... but I didn't really mind being alone for once. I just needed to clear my head.

The bottle of water I had snagged from the gas station earlier hung at my side in my right hand. I had downed a little more than half of it, but it was always harder for me to drink it once it got warm.

I kicked pebbles as I walked, attempting to keep them floating in the air with my telekinesis. Sometimes it worked, but only for a second or two before I'd loose control. The pebbles would zing off to the side, bouncing across the road, and one of them had even bounced back and smacked me in the forehead. I gave up after that one.

Puddles pooled along the sides of the highway from a rain shower that I had, thankfully, avoided. I could feel the steam rising up from the grass and dirt baking underneath my converse.

Then, suddenly, a familier sound rumbled from a little ways behind me.

A motor.

I glanced behind me, and saw an old blue truck driving in my direction. Attached over the bed was a small camper, big enough for one person or maybe two small people.

I thought about thumbing for a ride as the truck approached, but decided against it and just kept walking. I'd be fine on foot for a while longer.

I listened as the sound of the tires rushing against the pavement grew closer. They caught a deep puddle as the truck passed me, splashing mud and grease all over the front of me. My dark jeans and pale yellow t-shirt were soaked, but they were already dirty and grungy anyway.

I gasped at the sudden, uncomfortable feeling of my wet clothes clinging to my body. The truck just kept on driving, leaving me standing there, fuming.

"ASSHOLE!" I shouted pointlessly toward the truck while watching it disappear around a corner up ahead.

I sighed and mentally thanked myself for stopping at that thrift store a while back... At least I could change into some clean, dry clothes.

There was a thick cluster of bushes in the woods about twenty feet away from the road, so I quickly jogged over and hid myself behind them, just in case another random vehicle happened to pass by. My duffle bag hit the ground with a 'thud', and I quickly unzipped it.

I pulled the first tank top I saw out of the bag, a pink and black zebra print racer back. Then, I grabbed my pale denim shorts that were frayed at the ends, and changed as quickly as possible.

Once I got back to walking the interstate, I made sure to stear clear of any more puddles...

xxxxxx

When the sun disappeared from the sky, the night air chilled me right down to the bone. It probably wasn't any cooler than fifty or sixty degrees, but I always gotten cold easily. In moments like these, I was thankful for my black hooded jacket.

I zipped the zipper all the way up, rubbing my arms to give myself some extra warmth. As I rounded a bend, I prayed that there would be something on the other side, anything... I just wanted to warm up.

My heart skipped a beat when I actually saw a small building up ahead, as if my prayers had been answered. I quickened my pace, eager to get out of the cold. As I got closer, I could see the building was a small dive bar called 'Larry's', although the burnt out A in the neon sign made it look like 'Lrry's'.

Behind the bar sat a run down motel, but I couldn't find a sign with the name of it... Looked like a place where hookers went and never came back from.

I decided to stay clear of the nameless motel as I crossed the barren highway, making my way toward the bar.

The parking lot was small with maybe five or six vehicles parked out front, and I actually recognized one. The old blue truck that had soaked me a while back.

"Figures..." I muttered while rolling my eyes as I passed it.

At least I didn't know what the driver looked like.

When I opened the door, every head turned to look at me, and just as I thought, I was the only woman there. I ignored the stares as I turned and headed for the sign that said 'Restrooms'.

The ladies room was cleaner than I'd expected, but still wasn't anything to write home about. I stared at my reflection in the dingy mirror, pleased that my make-up had held up all this time. My hair needed a brush, though.

When I was done, I straggled back into the main part of the bar, feeling awkward and out of place around all the burly men. They still stared, although now they didn't make it quite as obvious.

The bartender smiled at me as I sat down at the end of the bar and shrugged off my jacket. He was a middle aged man, probably about 40 or so, and he had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

"What's yer poison, sweetheart?" He asked me in a southern drawl. I must have still been in Mississippi.

"Just water, please..." I answered back in embarrassment. I didn't even have enough money for half a beer, let alone a tip.

But, the bartender didn't give me a nasty look or point to the door and tell me to get lost like I thought he would. Instead, he simply nodded and told me he'd get it right to me. I thanked him quietly.

I kept my eyes forward, sipping my water and listening to the sound old country music playing from the radio.

"Aaall my exe's live in Texas..." The song droned on.

Pool billiards smacked against each other from behind me, and I could hear the group of men huddled around the pool table whispering.

Suddenly, someone walked passed me from the direction of the restrooms, and took a seat four stools down from me. I took a quick glance at him and looked away. All I could gather was that he had dark hair and wore a leather jacket... My glance had been too quick for any more detail.

He grumbled to the bartender, who in return grabbed a Budweiser from under the bar, popped it open, and set it in front of him. Human nature got the best of me as I turned my head to look at the man again, this time just a little bit longer.

I was right about his hair being dark. It was sort of long, naturally waving back away from his chizzled looking face. His scruffy sideburns seemed to grow down into a neatly trimmed line along his jaw, forming an interesting looking goatee.

My eyes dropped from his face down to his clothes. He was dressed pretty simply. His leather jacket was brown, and underneath it was a white tank top. A silver dogtag hung from his neck, but of course I couldn't read it.

He wore a pair of snug blue jeans, a brown belt, and a pair of dusty brown boots. He looked like he was built pretty well under all those clothes, and there was something so mysterious about him.

He sipped his beer and glanced at me through the corner of his eye, catching me staring. I felt my cheeks burn red as I quickly looked away... I was so embarrassed, and I didn't really know why.

This shyness was a curse. That man looked older than me, maybe in his early forties, but the more I thought of him the sexier he became to me, and I felt drawn to look at him again, but I was too bashful.

Here I was, 26 years old, and I couldn't even make myself look at an attractive stranger. The last time I had been with a guy, I was 22 and I had hooked up with my co-worker unexpectantly after giving him a ride home from work. You know, back when I had a car.

But it was quick and meaningless and I honestly didn't even remember much about it.

Any other woman in my position probably would have already been in the car, on the way home with this guy, but not me... Maybe that was for the best, though. Who knows what my mutation might do in a situation like that...

Or this could have just been my overwhelming amount of estrogen talking.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

The bartender's voice brought me out of my thoughts, and I realized I had been gripping my half full glass of water, staring into space.

"Y-yes..?" I stammered after clearing my throat, and the bartender popped open a bottle of budlight he was holding.

"This is from the gentlemen at the pool table." He said with a grin as he set the beer down in front of me, "Please, enjoy."

I looked down at the drink suspiciously before turning to glance over my shoulder at who had sent it.

Four greasy looking men stood there, leaning against the pool table. Each of them had stupid grins on their faces, and one of them even waved. I turned back to the bartender with a disgusted look on my face.

"I wouldn't exactly call those guys gentlemen," I said, "But thank you."

The bartender shrugged, and as I took a swig of the ice cold bud light, I swear I heard the mysterious man next to me chuckle at what I had said.

I ignored it though, and listened to his gruff voice as he ordered another Budweiser. The hair stood up on the back of my neck as he spoke.

What the hell was wrong with me...? Why was he so fascinating? And more importantly, why couldn't I make myself talk to him?

I quickly finished the beer before it had a chance to get warm, and the bartender collected the empty bottle. I took a drink of water, about to stand up and leave, when another bud light was placed in front of me.

I looked up at the bartender quizically.

"'Nother one from the boys." He said with the same grin before walking away.

I thought about just leaving it there, but I shrugged and kept my seat, wrapping my fingers around the chilled bottle. Free beer didn't come around often, so I was going to enjoy it... Even if it was from a bunch of creepy bar rats.

I got about halfway through the second beer before I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. Suddenly there was a body in the stools on each side of me, and I could feel two more behind me.

"How'syer beer, sweet thing?" One of the men from the pull table slurred from beside me as he leaned in closer.

He reaked of whiskey. I pulled away from him and found myself bumping into another, who chuckled and brushed his hand against my arm.

"Leave me alone..." I mumbled while shrugging the disgusting feeling of his fingers off me.

"What, you gonna take our beer and not give us nothin' in return...?" One of the men from behind me asked.

"It's common courtesy, y'know." The first one pointed out, causing the others to drunkenly chuckle and agree.

I gripped the beer in my hand, instantly regreting drinking either of them. My eyes widened as one of their grimey paws slid down the front of my tank top, and I instinctively tossed what was left inside the bottle into his face.

"Get off me!" I growled and tried to push them all away, but I wasn't strong enough.

"C'mon, honey-" The same man reached for my tank top again, and that did it.

Something in my head snapped, and I felt the pressure from the telekinetic blast, completely focused at the man grabbing for me. He was thrown backward at an incredible force, smashing into a glass trophy case... he was dead instantly.

I felt everyone's eyes on me as the bar silenced, minus the cheerfully out of place country music. Tears burned in my eyes as the three other men ran to their friend, screaming and pointlessly trying to revive him.

I gathered up my duffle bag and raced out the door, avoiding all the wide eyes in the room.

The door opened again behind me before I could get even a quarter of the way across the parking lot, and suddenly I was surrouned by the three remaining men... They didn't look very happy.

"What're you, one of those freaks or somethin?!" One of them screamed , and all I could do was sob.

I tried to dash through the gap between them, but they were too fast for me. They grabbed my shoulders and shoved me backwards, knocking me to the pavement.

"You killed my brother..." The tallest of the men whispered as hw towered over me, and suddenly he flipped open a pocket knife. "YOU KILLED 'IM!"

My breathing became ragged as I crawled backwards on the asphalt, only to be yolked up by the other two men.

I struggled, but I had no energy left. The telekinetic blast inside the bar had drained me completely, and now I couldn't even fight for my life...

"You might be pretty, but we don't take kindly to you mutants 'round these parts..." The man with the knife grumbled as he inched closer, and I cringed at the word 'mutant'. "Looks like we're gonna have to do a little exterminatin'..."

I closed my eyes tight, waiting for the sharp pain of being stabbed, but it never came. Instead, I heard the bar door open again, and the sound of footsteps thundering toward us.

There was a series of metallic slicing sounds, accompanied by a few furious roars. My captors grips loosened on me, but the weight of their bodies falling to the ground took me down with them.

I shrugged their lifeless hands from my arms, but I was too weak to stand up. In the dim light of the bar's neon sign, I could see the mysterious man from the bar standing a few feet in front of me with his back turned.

My vision was beginning to blur, but as my eyes dropped to his hands, I could see what looked like the blades of three sharp knives... But as they slid under the skin of each pair of his knuckles, I realized that they weren't knives at all.

This man was a mutant, just like me... And he had saved me life.

As my vision morphed from blurry to almost completely black, I felt the man scoop my limp body into his arms, craddling me into his strong masculine chest.

I inhaled, and I could smell a mix of cigars, beer and aftershave... And somehow, it was very comforting.

The last thing I could see before completely loosing conciousness was the man reaching out to open the door of the old blue truck with the white camper...

Figures...


	3. Chapter Two

AN:: Oh my gosh, guys. You're all AMAZING! 69 follows, 39 favorites and 11 reviews, all for just the prologue and first chapter. I could not be happier!

Thank you so much for the support, everyone, and I'm glad so many of you are enjoying my Wolverine fanfic (: If you like the Walking Dead & Daryl Dixon, please please pleeease give my other story a read! Thank you! (:

This chapter isn't the longest, but I'm still figuring out where things are going in this story... I've got some great ideas, but nothing set in stone.

Well, enjoy, my fellow Wolverine lovers! xx

xxxxxx

"Stay..."

"You're safe..."

"Don't be afraid..."

"Listen..."

"He is..."

"Safe..."

"Don't go..."

"Anabelle..."

"Ana..."

"..."

"..."

"ANA."

I woke up with a jolt, sitting upright in total darkness.

It was quiet... I didn't know where I was... The only thing I could hear was the sound of my jagged breathing, and crickets faintly chirping.

I was chilled to the bone from the cool air outside, seeping its way into wherever I was. It pierced through my jacket, and I wrapped the fabric tighter around me. It wasn't much help, though... Shivers still quaked my body, erupting from my ribcage.

"Hello...?" I whispered breathlessly.

Someone had been talking to me; a man, I think... But maybe it was a dream.

When no one spoke back, I figured that was probably the answer... It was just a dream. But it seemed so real...

Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the dark, and I looked around at the small, unfamilier space I was in... And that's when my memory started to come back to me.

The bar, the attack, the parking lot... The man that had saved my life... And that blue truck with the camper. That was the last thing I could remember, that's where I had to be.

My body was sprawled on a compact, sort of scratchy couch, and next to it sat a tiny table with a single drawer.

Ontop of the table was a bendable desk lamp, and a digital clock that read 2:13 AM in neon red numbers and letters. How long had I been out...?

As I asked myself this question, my heart and head started to pound at the same time. I winced at the sharp pain in my head, but focused more on my heart... I closed my eyes for a second, but all I could see were images of that mysterious stranger, and the blades between his knuckles...

I wondered why he saved me, and where he was... As I caught sight of a small ladder that led up to a loft off to my right, I figured I had an answer to half of my question.

I stood up, taking in the rest of my surroundings. Next to the ladder and underneath the only window was a table with two booth style seats on each side. On the front wall was a door, in the corner to the left of it rested a mini fridge. Then on the wall adjacent the table and window was a set of cheap wooden cabinets, another small couch, and a door I assumed led to a bathroom. My duffle bag sat safely next to it.

All of a sudden, I was overcome with cabin fever. I slowly crept my way toward the front door, halting as the floorboards creaked under my feet. I heard a body sleepily shift up in the loft, and then there was peaceful quiet again.

I glanced over my shoulder just to make 100% sure I hadn't been caught, then released a tense breath that I'd been holding. My fingers grasped the brass doorknob, twisted it to the left, and popped it open.

A cool gust of air rushed inside and stole a gasp from my lips, cutting right through me, down to the bone. Now it felt like my jacket was almost nonexistant, but I ignored the cold and stepped out onto the dewy grass.

As I shut the door behind me and turned around, my hunch was proven right... I had been inside the camper attached to that old blue truck. It was parked in the middle of a vast clearing in the woods somewhere.

The full moon above casted a pale glow down onto the grass and trees, catching the drops of dew and giving them a glittery illusion. In the middle of the clearing were two lawn chairs, and the ashy remains of a campfire, just barely smoldering.

I sighed and made my way over to the chairs. I dried the dew from the wicker, then took a seat and stared up at the moon, my only company for the moment.

This was a very strange situation I was in. Any other woman probably would have made a run for it by now... But I was almost comforted by the unknown.

I felt safer than I had before, at least, even if I had no idea where I was or the mysterious man I was with. For some reason, I didn't feel threatened or in danger... I felt as if someone was watching over me, in a way.

My mind became foggy and my eyes settled on the pale moon above. I wondered about that voice inside my head... Was it really a dream? Or was someone out there trying to communicate with me? Someone like me... Another mutant?

Everything was just so confusing now... The line between possible and impossible had been blurred, if not completely erased. I didn't know what to believe, and it was overwhelming...

"Hey."

A voice startled me from behind, and I whirled around to see who it was. It wasn't until now that I noticed the vacant chair floating above the grass, spinning aimlessly. It crashed to the ground as my mind focused, and my eyes landed on the source of the voice.

It was my savior from the bar. He was leaning in the doorway of the camper, looking groggy. His dark hair ruffled a bit from sleep, abd He was barefoot, dressed only in a pair of striped pajama pants and a white tank top... I struggled to keep my eyes off his muscular arms and torso.

The man raised his thick, dark eyebrows at the stirred up lawn chair, then flicked his eyes back to my face.

"Seems like you do that a lot." He grumbled at me, "You were having a nightmare and I thought we were headed to Oz."

I felt my cheeks burning red as he mentioned my out of control telekinesis, which was an intense contrast to the cold. The man began to walk over to me, and my body tensed. Something in my head told me he wasn't going to try to hurt me, but still all my muscles stiffened into defense mode.

I didn't say anything as he tilted the chair next to me upright and sat down. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, until he looked at me with his clear, hazel eyes, of course... Then my eyes acted as if his face was a negative pole, and I just couldn't make them settle.

Each time I tried to force my eyes to stay put, they bounced to the moon, the smoldering embers, or the trees... Why was I so awkward?

For a minute or two, neither of us said anything. We sat side by side in the moonlight, a cool breeze passing through. I trembled a little, but the stranger next to me seemed unphased.

"Cold?" He asked me with a glance.

I nodded meekly, and the stranger stood up and walked back toward the camper. Now that his eyes were a safe distance away, I glued my own to his back as he disappeared inside.

He returned after a few seconds, holding the same leather jacket I'd seen him wearing the night before. "Here."

The man tossed the jacket underhand, and I reached out and caught it just before it hit my lap. I shyly passed my eyes over to him as he sat down again, nodding a 'thank you' in his direction.

The jacket had a soft interior lining, and the brown leather on the outside did an amazing job of blocking out every last trace of cold. I couldn't help but grin at the wonderful feeling of my body heat trapped against my skin, and I was toasty within seconds.

I could feel the man's eyes on me, but I tried to ignore how anxious it made me feel. He started to ask me more questions that I knew I would have to use my voice to answer.

"You got a name?"

I nodded. He waited.

"...Got a voice?"

This question confused me a little bit. I searched his tone, but I couldn't tell if he was being serious or sarcastic. I cleared my throat, realizing I couldn't stay mute forever.

"Anabelle..." I forced myself to squeak. I cleared my throat, my voice barely audible. "I'm Anabelle."

The man looked at me before leaning down and propping his elbows on his knees.

"Anabelle." He repeated, never taking his intense eyes off me. "Hm.. Name's Logan."

I gulped as he said his name, picturing the letters forming together inside my mind, sounding it out over and over again.

The name Logan definately fit him. It was strong and masculine, and unique... I couldn't say I'd ever met anyone named Logan.

After that, my throat froze again, and I sank back into my shy shell. I couldn't think of anything to say, and just kept nodding or shaking my head as Logan asked me questions.

"You really shouldn't be walking around by yourself-" Logan started to tell me, but his voice trailed off as he noticed my face fall sullen.

I looked down in my lap and picked at my nails, trying not to think of my dead step father and less than caring mother, unfortunately the only people I had in the world... She probably didn't even realize I was gone.

Then again, maybe she did, but she just didn't care. I started to wonder what my life would have been like if my dad would have been alive...

"...You don't have anyone." Logan observed, causing me to look up at him... For some reason it was easier in that moment.

It didn't last long, though. I tore my ice blue eyes away from his chizzled face, peering off into the trees.

I mentally ordered myself not to cry, struggling to keep my emotions under control. I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to keep my composure.

"Well, you and me both, kid." Logan sighed as he looked at the ground, "I don't have anybody but me."

He didn't seem too upset, and somehow, hearing him say this calmed my mind. For once, I felt less alone... Like someone else knew the struggles that I did.

"I left the only people I had behind..." I muttered as I stared at the ground, "They didn't care about me. They wouldn't have understood... No one ever does."

I felt Logan's eyes as he stared at me for a second, and my stomach twisted into a knot. I realized how many words I had left slip by my lips, and began obsessing over the nervous quiver I'd heard in my speech.

Logan suddenly stood up, running one of his hands through his dark, wavy hair.

"You must be new at this whole mutant thing, huh?" He asked me, and I cringed at the word mutant. Logan raised one of his eyebrows before continuing, "Can't say I blame ya. I still can't wrap my head around the shit... Nobody's ever gonna get it, so you better get used to that."

My eyes stayed glued to his knuckles while he talked, imagining those sharp blades sliding out from under his rough skin... A shudder racked up my spine.

"Hey? Anabelle." Logan's voice snapped me out of my trance, and I stared at his face, wide eyed. "I said, are you hungry?"

The question seemed out of place. I hadn't really thought about food... But as the thought made itself present in my mind, my stomach answered in place of my voice.

It roared loudly, causing Logan's eyebrows to raise, and his lips to curve into a small smirk... My heart melted a little bit.

"Say no more." He said with a light chuckle before heading inside.

I waited for a few minutes before Logan walked back out the door. In his arms he clutched a jug of shake-n-pour pancake batter, a frying pan, lighter fluid, and a few logs of firewood. A packet of baccon hung between his teeth.

"A little early breakfast never hurt anyone, huh?" He muttered to me as he quickly set up everything he needed to cook. "Hope you like pancakes and bacon."

I nodded, feeling my mouth water... I loved pancakes and bacon, but especially pancakes.

It amazed me how fast Logan got the frying pan set up and the fire started. He poured a little water into the jug of pancake batter, shook it up, and poured two circles into the pan. As they bubbled up, Logan focused on the unopened package of bacon.

My eyes widened as I watched the set of blades attached to his left pair of knuckles slide out from under his skin. There was no blood, though, not a single drop. No sign of pain on his face, either... He just tore through the bacon's plastic prison, withdrawing the metal claws when he was finished.

He noticed me staring at him, and judging by the look on his face, mine must have looked horrified.

"I know." He said, as if he was agreeing with something I said.

I tilted my head to the side, and I blurted out the question that had been pressing my mind since I first saw his strange mutation in the parking lot of the bar...

"D-doesn't that... Hurt...?" I managed to stammer out in a hushed tone. Logan gazed at me quizically, so I clarified. "You know... Your claws..."

The mysterious man next to me pressed his lips into a thin line under his scruff. His eyes focused on the two pancakes in the frying pan, which were ready to be flipped.

"Yup... Every time." Logan replied while he wedged a metal spatula under each pancake, flipping them onto their opposite sides. "I heal quick."

I nodded slowly and glanced one more time at his knuckles before falling quiet again. I just wasn't used to actually having someone around that wasn't terrified of me or what I could do.

After a few more minutes, Logan finished up the pancakes and had fried the bacon up nice and crispy, just the way we both happened to like it.

"Cheers." Logan said flatly as he raised the bottle of maple syrup.

Then, we both dug into our plates of early breakfast.

I felt awkward as I slowly took bites of the sweet and salty syrupy goodness. It tasted amazing, but I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the only thing I knew about Logan was his name.

Well, that and his mutation... And then there was that voice in my dream that had woken me up.

Whoever it had been was trying to tell me I was safe... Safe with him... Who? Logan?

Even if the voice had been for real, who could possibly know I was with him? None of this made sense, not one bit.

But then again, nothing ever did anymore.

"...Logan," I spoke up meekly as I set my fork down, and he grunted back at me without looking up from his own plate, "Why did you save me?"

My fellow mutant shifted his sharp hazel eyes up to me, his dark eyebrows furrowed a little bit.

"Was I just supposed to leave you with those scumbags?" He asked me as he swallowed, and I shook my head.

"N-no, that's not what I meant," I said defensively, "I mean... You could have taken care of those pervs and left me there to fend for myself... Why did you take me with you? Why am I here?"

Logan stared at me a few more seconds, then sighed and set his plate on his lap. He ran his hands through his hair as if he were struggling to find the right words, and I waited patiently.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Logan admitted, "I was just sitting there in that bar, and when I sat down next to you, I don't know... This voice in my head started talking to me. I couldn't leave without you."

My entire body froze and I just stared at the man.

"Kid...? You in there?" Logan proded, but I completely tuned him out. All I could hear was the sound of my pounding heart in my eardrums.

This couldn't have been a coincidence, and that voice in my mind couldn't have been a dream... It was trying to get Logan's attention, too...


	4. Chapter Three

"Wait... You said a voice told you to help me?" I clarified slowly.

Logan nodded as he chewed a mouthful of food. "Does that sound like something I'd just make up for shits and giggles?"

I shook my head in response, severing a tiny piece of pancake with my plastic fork. I stabbed it, lifted it to my mouth, and chewed it slowly. "Was it a man's voice?"

Logan lifted his eyes to look at me for a second, seeming a little suspicious of my question. He had finished his pancakes, so he picked up a strip of bacon and crunched into it. "Mhm..."

I looked down and pushed the last few soggy pieces of pancake around on my plate, feeling bashful and anxious under his gaze. "Did he have an accent...? British...?"

This time, Logan sharply snapped his head up to look at me. His eyebrows were scrunched up, his lips slightly frowning. I could feel my cheeks warming in a rosie shade of pink.

"...Uh huh," He replied to me after a pause, "So you can read my mind too, huh?"

"No, but I think someone else out there can." I said to him, "...Both our minds."

"Wait, both our minds?" Logan asked as he set his plate down in the grass, "What are you talking about?"

"I, uh... I heard it, too..." I stammered as I bashfully glanced up at Logan, "It was talking to me while I was asleep... That's what woke me up."

"You're not fucking with me, are you?" Logan asked as his hazel eyes narrowed

"No, I really did hear it." I insisted seriously, "Whoever it was knew my name... Did he know yours?"

Logan stared at me for a few seconds before nodding slightly. He finished his bacon and set the now empty plate on the ground. Another breeze passed through again, and I was happy I had the leather jacket wrapped around me. I noticed the hairs on Logan's arms raise up from the chill.

"Yea... He knew my name." He muttered to me, "Told me things about myself that no one would ever be able to know..."

Logan paused and looked up at me.

"Then he started telling me about this girl... That I needed to find her, that she was this way, that way... Drove me nuts for weeks. When I sat next to you at that bar..."

He paused again and I found myself staring at him, the orange glow from the campfire illuminating his scruffy face and chizzled torso. I shifted in my chair a little bit as I focused on his words again.

"He just kept telling me 'there, follow her, don't let her leave'... I don't know why, but here you are."

My mind was baffled as I turned this new information over in my brain. He had been hearing this voice for weeks, and basically tracking me... And the same voice was talking to me, now? What the hell was going on?

"Whoever it was didn't speak to me until last night..." I spoke up quietly. "He just told me to stay here... That I was safe with you. I thought it was a dream, but..." My voice trailed off as I picked at a thread in Logan's jacket.

We were quiet for a minute or two, just staring into the fire. It crackled and popped in a lively way, and I could feel a little heat warming my bare legs.

"Well this is getting a little weird for me," Logan announced as he stood up, "I'm going back to bed. You shouldn't stay out here much longer, either."

And with that, he turned and walked to the camper, disappearing inside. I turned back to the fire, gazing off into the golden embers... This really was weird... But it was either stay with Logan, or go back to fending for myself.

The smartest choice wasn't exactly clear to me yet, so I did the best I could in the moment. I stood up, kicked dirt over the campfire to extinguish it, then queitly made my way back inside.

I flopped down on the couch, glimpsing at the digital clock which read 3:55 AM. I sighed and closed my eyes.

I knew I wasn't going to get much sleep, but I had to at least try.

The old blue truck rattled as it plowed over an Alabama backroad riddled with potholes. It was about one o'clock in the afternoon, and we had been driving since about eight in the morning... Crossed over the Mississippi / Alabama line two hours earlier.

Logan and I had the windows rolled down and Johnny Cash playing on the truck's old radio. The summer air whipping through the cab felt amazing as it brushed my hair from my face.

I could suddenly smell the strong aroma of smoke, and turned to Logan. He had just lit a cigar, and puffed on it a few times. He didn't notice me looking, luckily, so I just turned my eyes back out the window.

We came to a fork in the road, and Logan slowed the truck to a stop so he could read the sign posted. It was a wooden sign in the shape of two arrows pointing in opposite directions. The one on the top pointed to the right, and read: ERIKSON - 7 1/4 miles. The one on the bottom pointed to the left, and it said: CONTINUE TO HIGHWAY 9 - 17 miles.

Logan cranked the steering wheel to the right, and I watched the sign fade in the rearview mirror as we accelerated down the road. I guess we were heading to Erikson... Wherever that was. But, I just sat back and watched the trees and pastures full of grazing cattle roll by. I was simply along for the ride.

"I need some stuff from the store." Logan grumbled to me as we finally pulled into Erikson, a tiny little podunk town; even smaller than the town in Mississipi I had fled from. "You need anything?"

I gave Logan a blank stare as he waited for my answer, but I didn't know what to say. He raised his eyebrows at me in an attempt to coax my voice out of me, but it didn't work. I simply shook my head.

"You don't need any..." Logan asked slowly, seeming to search for the right words, "...Lady stuff?"

Instantly my face burned red. I reached up and tamed a strand of hair that was fluttering in the wind, tucking it behind my ear. I could tell he felt just as bashful as I did, but he was way better at hiding it.

"Uh... n-no, I'm good." I stammered as my eyes danced around the cabin of the truck.

Logan grunted in response and said nothing more on the subject. We were pulling into the parking lot of a small general store. There were a handful of old cars scattered in the parking spots, and Logan whipped to a stop next to a red station wagon.

Logan took a few more puffs off his cigar, letting the thick, sweet smelling smoke waft out the open windows before he rolled them up. He stubbed the half burned cigar out in his truck's ash tray, then tucked it in the pocket of his blue flannel shirt.

We popped open the doors and hopped outside, slamming them shut behind us.

Logan peered across the hood at me,nodding toward the store, and I trailed along behind him as we walked across the parking lot. I stayed a few steps behind him, admiring his toned rear end showing through his snug jeans. Logan glanced back over his shoulder to make sure I was still following, and I quickly averted my eyes.

The automatic doors slid open as we approached them, welcoming us inside. Logan reached out and grabbed a shopping cart from the bunch and reeled it into him, then headed for the cold food aisle to the left.

I walked along quietly with Logan as he browsed the selection of cheese and lunch meat. He quickly settled on honey ham and provologne, tossing both packages into the cart.

As Logan continued to the end of the cold food aisle and took a right to grab a loaf of bread, I wandered away from him. I straggled two aisles over to where the canned food was.

In the middle of the aisle was an elderly woman, standing on her toes and struggling to reach a can of spinach on the top shelf. She muttered and cursed under her breath, giving up and placing her hand on her strained lower back.

She tried to catch a store clerk passing by to help her, but he just strolled on past, too distracted by the headphones lodged in his ears.

"Oh, dear..." I heard the old woman sigh in defeat as she stared up at the cans.

I hid myself behind the end cap of the aisle, glancing back and forth between the woman and the can of spinach that she was still struggling to grab.

"Give it a shot, Ana..." I whispered to myself as I cleared my mind of everything but that can.

I concentrated as hard as I could, tuning out all the little noises of the market; Shopping cart wheels skating across the tile floor, soft beeping as items were scanned by the cashier, the occassional price check called out over the intercom... And slowly, the can began to wiggle. I felt my stomach flutter as the can lifted from the shelf, but I didn't lose focus.

I guided the can with my eyes, picturing it floating right to the old woman's hands... And what I invisioned in my mind became reality. She gasped and held her hands out, staring with wide eyes as she grasped the can out of thin air... And I let go.

A huge smile creeped across my face when I realized I had had another successful experience with my telekinesis. It was times like these that gave me faith in conquering my mutation and making it an asset to my life, instead of a burden.

Suddenly the woman caught sight of me. My heart jumped into my throat and I shrunk back behind the end cap, but she simply leaned to her right a bit and kept her eyes on me.

I expected her to scream out and call me a freak, but instead she smiled.

"Did you get this spinach down for me?" She asked in a delicate voice as she placed the can in the cart.

I gulped and stepped out into the open. I nodded my head shyly when I realized she wasn't afraid.

"My, my..." She breathed while shaking her head at me, her smile widening, "That's quite a gift you have, sweetie."

I warily stepped a bit closer to the woman, pretending to be interested in the cans of peas on the shelf in front of me.

"I wouldn't call it a gift," I replied softly, "It's more of a problem."

"Why on Earth would you say that...?" She asked me. There was a tinge of sadness in her voice.

"I can't always control it like I did just now," I informed the woman, "It usually scares most people away."

The woman's sad expression transformed back into a smile as she gazed up at me with her stormy gray eyes.

"Well, I think it's wonderful." She exclaimed, then glanced behind her like she was checking to see if we were alone. "Let me show you something."

I stared quizically at the elderly woman as she dug in her big purple bag, finally pulling out a small packet of seeds that read "Assorted Wild Flowers" on the front.

She reached for my hand and gently turned it over so my palm was facing upward. I tilted my head to the side as the woman sprinkled a few seeds into my open palm before dropping the packet back in her bag.

She glanced behind her once more, then placed her palm over mine, clasping my hand between both of hers.

I gasped as a soft glowing light began to emit from inbetween the cracks of our fingers, followed by a warm tingly sensation in my palm. After a few seconds, the woman pulled her hands away and smiled up at me.

My eyes twinkled at my palm, staring at a small bunch of pink, yellow and white flowers taking the place of the seeds. I realized that this woman was a mutant as I looked up from the flowers and into her warm, kind face.

"Wow..." I breathed to her, "That's amazing."

"But so is your gift, dear." The woman insisted, "Just like the souls of human beings, each mutation is beautiful and unique, and we are blessed to have them... Never be ashamed."

I nodded to the woman, and she placed a gentle hand on my cheek before turning and wheeling her cart down the aisle. I stared at her as she made her way to the end and turned to the left, heading toward the check out lanes.

Her words seemed to echoe in my head as I glanced at the flowers again, feeling myself softly smile. Who knew a stranger could make me feel so at ease with myself?

But I knew that feeling would be ripped away from me the second my telekinesis slipped... Instead of thinking about that, though, I dropped the flowers into my jacket pocket and strolled over to the snack aisle at the front of the store.

They had a pretty good selection of chips, cookies and cakes, and I felt growl. I had always been a junk food junky. I gasped as I laid eyes on a box of Cosmic Brownies, which I was especially addicted to. I grabbed the box and looked it over, reading the price tag: $2.49

I pursed my lips, knowing I didn't have any money, or my duffle bag to simply slip then into like I usually did. Plus, I didn't want Logan to know I had a shoplifting habbit.

"Jeez, there you are," Logan's voice spoke from my left, catching me off guard and making me flinch. "I thought you went back out to the truck or something."

I turned to face him.

"Sorry, I uh..." I stumbled over my words.

"Relax, I'm not looking for an apology, I just didn't know where you were." Logan assured me, "You like those?"

I blinked at him a few times before I realized he was talking about the brownies in my hands.

"Um.. yea, but I was just looking at then." I replied casually as I set the box back in its place.

Logan raised an eyebrow at me before reaching out and snagging the brownies off the shelf again, tossing them in the cart. I tried to protest as he reached for a bag of BBQ flavored chips and tossed them in, too, but he cut me off.

"What do you like to drink?" He asked me as he pushed the cart forward, "Soda? Juice?"

"Really, I'm okay, I don't need-" I tried to convince Logan I didn't need anything else, but he just halted the cart and gave me a look that said he wasn't buying it, "... Rootbeer..."

He nodded and we headed to the drink aisle. Logan scooped up a 12 pack of rootbeer, a 6 pack of Budweiser, and a gallon of sweet tea the was on sale for a dollar.

After a stop in the personal hygene aisle for Logan's shaving cream, razors, and deoderant, we headed to the check out lanes.

Luckily, no one was in line, so we scooted right up to the cash register.

"How are ya'll doin' today?" The smiling cashier greeted us. She was a young girl, probably about 16, with blonde hair, brown eyes and freckles dusted across her nose.

Logan glanced at her as he slapped the cheese and lunch meat onto the belt. "Fine."

I kept my eyes down and listened to the soft beeping of the cash register as items were scanned. I grabbed the bags and placed them in the cart, and the cashier gave Logan the total: $38.42

I watched as he pulled out his wallet and handed the girl a 50 dollar bill. As she calculated the change, I couldn't help but wonder how Logan got his money.

The cashier thanked us as she handed Logan a few bills and some coins, then bid us farewell as we grabbed our bags and walked out through the automatic doors.

A green truck slowed to a stop and waved us across the crosswalk. Logan nodded curteously to the driver as we walked past, heading straight for the truck.

Logan popped the door open to the camper, climbed inside with his bags, and told me to hand him up the rest.

"...Thank you." I said quietly as Logan took the last bag from me.

He hopped down out of the camper, shut the door and looked over at me.

"No problem, kid." He mumbled while giving me a nod, "Just speak up next time. Now c'mon, let's get going. I don't like staying in these small towns for long."

Next time? That meant he wanted me to stick around...

With that, Logan pulled out his keys and walked to the driver's side door. I made my way to the passenger side, hearing the click of the doors unlocking. I grasped the handle, popped the door open, and slid into the bench seat.

When both our doors were shut and the engine was pumping, we were on the move again, headed out of town and back to the highway.

We drove along for an hour or so in calm silence, not even the radio made a peep. The windows were down as usual, and Logan had almost finished that cigar. He took two more quick puffs before flicking the stub out the window.

I watched it bounce on the pavement for a split second in the passenger side mirror. After two bounces it exploded into a cloud of embers, then disappeared.

I sighed, feeling a sleepy spell wash over me. I propped my feet up on the dashboard, snuggling into the crook of the door. Suddenly, I remembered something... I reached into my jacket pocket and gingerly pulled out the tiny flowers.

They were a little wilted, but still beautiful... I smiled softly as I thought of the kind old woman's smiling face.

I gently rubbed the delicate petals of the flowers before concentrating hard on them. I felt my mind grasp them and gently lift them from my palm, swirling them about, almost like a dance... Then, just as quickly as I'd controled them, I lost my mind's hold and the flowers were swept up by the wind and carried out the open window.

Just like that, they were gone... But the magic of the woman's words stuck with me, echoeing inside my brain as I quickly drifted off to sleep...

"Just like human souls..."

"Every mutation is beautiful and unique..."

"We are blessed to have them..."

"Never be ashamed..."


	5. Chapter Four

"...So, come on doooown to Tom Sandy's discount auto lot, where our answer is always yes, yes, YES! Bad credit? No credit? Noooo problem...!"

An annoying, rambling radio commercial stirred me from my nap, but I didn't open my eyes just yet. Instead, I stubbornly furrowed my eyebrows and pressed myself into the hard interior of the door, trying to get farther away from the noise.

The man in the commercial babbled on about Fords, Nissans and Toyotas in his thick southern accent, giving anyone listening some very enthusiastic directions to his auto lot.

When I finally felt the truck slow to an idling stop, I reluctantly let my eyes blink open and take in my surroundings. There was Logan, of course, with one hand rested on the wheel and the other propped in the open window.

His tight white tank top hugged his chest and torso, showing off his tan, muscular arms. I could see a tufft of chest hair emerging from the neckline of the tank top... And it was the "just right, sexy" kind of chest hair... Not the "ew, that's a hair sweater" kind of chest hair. My eyes dropped down to his shiney metal dogtags, but I still couldn't read them...

"Mornin', sunshine." He said to me as he turned his head to the side.

I averted my eyes from his dogtags and felt myself blush as I looked into his smirking hazel eyes.

"Hey," I muttered a quiet but sincere greeting as I turned my gaze out the windshield. "Where are we...?"

The truck was stopped at a red light in the middle of yet another small town... This one looked a little more upscale, though. The buildings were taller, and there were definately more vehicles and people. I glanced at the green mini van sitting next to us at the light.

A soccer mom was singing in the driver's seat, bobbing her head all around to what I could only imagine to be a Pop or Rock song. In the backseat, a cheerful toddler kicked her legs excitedly as her mom danced.

A grin spread across my face as I turned my head forward again. The light for the turning lane next to us switched from red to green, and the mini van led a train of six cars in a turn to the right, into a Walmart parking lot.

"I don't know," Logan replied to my question as he tapped his thumb against the worn leather of the steering wheel, "Passed a sign a little while ago, but I can't remember. My memory's shit..."

He grumbled the last three words, sounding a little bitter. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and I could see he looked a little disgruntled... But as our light turned green and we accelerated down the road, that seemed to fade away.

The sun was low in the sky, giving everything in front of us a deep orange glow. Cars and trucks all around us began flipping their headlights on, it was about that time of day. Logan seemed to notice and turned the truck's lights on, too.

"How long was I asleep?" I asked as I peered at my reflection in the passenger side mirror.

My eyeliner was a little smudged and my hair could stand a brush, but otherwise it wasn't too bad to look at. I actually looked pretty rested, for once.

"Few hours." Logan said back, putting on his blinker and trying to merge into the left lane. "C'mon, asshole, get outta the way...!"

I peered over but I couldn't quite see what the other driver was doing to slow traffic.

"Old person?" I questioned, knowing how horrible the elderly were behind the wheel... Bless their hearts.

"Nah, idiot on a cell phone." Logan barked as he stared into his mirror, glancing up at the traffic in front of us periodically. He sighed, then clamped both hands firmly on the steering wheel, glancing over in my direction. "Hold on."

I did what he told me, grasping the frame of the door as he throttled the gas slightly. I nodded to Logan, signaling I was ready for take off.

Then, he slammed his foot on the pedal, sending the truck roaring forward at an incredible speed, and tossing me back into the bench seat. I heard myself let out a squeal at the sudden jolt.

Logan kept a steady grip on the wheel and a sharp eye on the road, inching up a few car lengths, and finally cutting in front of a dented red Saturn. The driver blared the horn, and Logan waved out the window.

I couldn't stifle the small giggle that escaped my lips as the truck slowed back down with the regular flow of traffic. Logan turned his head to look at me, my grin obviously becoming contagious.

"What?"'He said through his smirking lips, "You liked that?"

I nodded my head as my fit of giggles passed, but my grin stayed behind.

"Mhm." I hummed as I shyly gazed out my window, "I've always liked going fast... boats, cars, rollercoasters, doesn't matter."

Logan chuckled softly this time, making my stomach twist into knots. "Me, too."

We drove through a few more traffic lights before Logan spoke up again.

"You hungry?" He asked me without looking away from the road.

My stomach instantly grumbled at the thought of food. Logan smirked at the sound, and I knew I couldn't lie and say I was fine.

"Yea, I'm pretty hungry." I said honestly.

"Me, too," Logan agreed, zipping by a chubby Asian man on a MotorScooter, just barely keeping up with all the regular vehicles. "I see a sign for a Denny's up there."

"Denny's is good, but I don't have any money." I meekly pointed out. I thought he knew that?

"What makes you think you're paying for anything?" Logan asked me seriously, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow.

I didn't know what to say. I just stared at him with my ice blue eyes, my voice caught like a lump in my throat. I gulped a little bit and nodded, a small smile curving on my lips.

By now, we were parked in the Denny's parking lot, and Logan had switched off the ignition. The keys jingled as he yanked them into his palm. Before we stepped out of the truck, Logan pulled a plain black t-shirt on over his white tank top.

The sun was almost completely gone, leaving the sky in shades of purple, with the slightest sliver of deep orange remaining at the edges of the clouds. I shivered, the night air becoming a little crisp. Logan grabbed the door handle of the Denny's holding it open as I walked inside.

I smiled inwardly as the gentlemenly gesture.

"Hello, welcome to Denny's!" A very cheerful hostess greeted us at her podium, "Just two this evening?"

"Just us." Logan said to her with a nod and a small, forced smile.

The hostess bobbed her head of short red hair before grabbing two menus, and flashing her freckly, smiley face back up at us.

"Right over here." She led us to the right, and down along the wall to a booth in the corner. "Your server will be right with you!"

With that, the hostess scurried back to her post, and Logan and I took our seats on either side of the booth.

Logan pursed his lips as he flipped open his menu and began to look it over. I copied him, flipping mine to the back where all the drinks were listed. Lemonade, iced tea, chocolate milk, soft drinks...

"Hello, my name's Mark, and I'll be your server this evening." A dull, robotic voice pulled my attention away from the menu and into the face of a young man with short blonde hair, blue eyes, and a gap between his teeth, "Can I get you both started with a drink?"

I could tell he hated his job as he stared at us with an uninterested expression, tapping his red pen against his notepad.

"What do you want to drink, Anabelle?" Logan asked me without taking his eyes from the menu.

I blinked, my stomach fluttering as I realized that this was the first time he had really called me by name.

"Do you have rootbeer?" I questioned Mark hopefully.

"Yup." His reply was flat as he scribbled on his notepad, then turned to Logan, "What about you?"

"Coke." Logan replied, and Mark scribbled again before stalking away.

We were quiet as we looked over the menus. Denny's had a pretty overwhelming selection... Pasta, soup, pancakes, burgers... I just couldn't decide what I was hungry for.

Mark was back at our table shortly with two glasses of dark soda and two straws, asking if we were ready to order. Logan slapped his menu onto the table and ordered a meatloaf platter with mashed potatoes and green beans, and then it was my turn.

I hadn't really decided, so I just went with my usual at most restaurants: Chicken tenders and fries. They were always a pretty safe choice, I mean its pretty hard to mess up chicken tenders.

"Any sauce?" Mark asked me in the same robotic voice as before.

"Uum, barbeque." I replied, naming the first sauce that came to my mind.

Mark then collected our two menus and disappeared again, leaving Logan and I to ourselves.

I felt a little awkward, but tried to ignore it as I tapped my straw against the table and popped it through its thin paper wrapper.

I plopped the straw into my drink, then wrapped my pale pink lips around it and took a few long sips. The bubbly, sweet flavor of vanilla coated my tastebuds as the rootbeer slid down my throat.

Logan left his straw laying on the table, simply lifting his glass to his lips and sipping the cola. His eyes flickered a bit as he smacked his lips together and set the glass back down.

"So... Anabelle," Logan said across the table just loud enough for me to hear, "Where are you from?"

The sudden personal question caught me off guard, and I felt my face go blank for a few seconds. Logan raised his eyebrows at me, causing me to snap back to reality.

"Oh, um, Oregon... Portland." I clarified while stirring the ice around in my rootbeer with my straw. "You?"

"I think I'm from Canada." Logan replied to me.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion and tilted my head to the side.

"What do you mean you think you're from Canada?" I pondered, my voice puzzled. Logan shrugged at me.

"I don't know," He muttered gruffly while resting his arms on the back of the booth, "I told you, my memory's shit."

I guess that wasn't the weirdest thing that someone could say now adays. I mean, both of us heard voices in our heads... The same voice, at that.

"Have you always..." My voice trailed off as my eyes wandered to Logan's knuckles, and he could gather what I was trying to ask without me actually having to say it.

"For as long as I can remember," Logan said thoughtfully, his eyes glazing over, "But... It's complicated. There's a lot I don't know."

He seemed to be troubled by this question, so we stayed quiet for a minute. Then Logan leaned into the table, propped on his forearms.

"What about you? Always been able to move stuff with your mind?" He pressed, glancing up as the peppy hostess guided a family of five past our booth.

I shook my head while I took another sip of rootbeer.

"Only for a year or so," I informed him with a slight sigh, "It's... hard for me to control most of the time."

Memories from my last night at home in Portland flashed through my mind at rapid speeds. I blinked a few times, trying to clear the image of Troy laying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor from my head, and the echoeing sound of my mother's screams from my eardrums.

Suddenly, the salt and pepper shakers at the head of the table began to rattle around in the metal caddy. Within a split second, the vibration spread to the ketchup and hot sauce bottles, becoming more violent, as if a mini earthquake were happening under our booth.

Logan's hand shot out and grasped the bottles and shakers, covering them with one masculine hand, silencing the rattling and clanking. I felt the pressure inside my head release as I focused on Logan's face, my eyes wide.

"...See?" I whispered in embarrassment as I glanced from Logan's eyes over to his hand covering the condiments.

He slowly released his grip, withdrawing his hand back in front of him. I stared at my rootbeer, almost feeling ashamed of what had just happened. I could feel Logan's eyes from across the table, studying me.

I just wanted to sink under the table and melt into the floor, anything to escape this helpess, humiliating feeling.

"Hey," Logan's hushed voice spoke up after a second, "Don't sweat it. That's nothing to be embarrassed of."

I felt the courage to make eye contact again, meeting Logan's sincere hazel eyes with my scared ice blue ones. He grinned a little and kept talking. "I actually think it's pretty cool, you know. That's like a real superpower. These things I got?" Logan lifted up his hands and wiggled his fingers, "They're just fancy knives attached to my bones... You just need practice."

Logan flashed me a reassuring grin in the fluorescent light of the restaurant, and I couldn't help but reflect it. His smile was so contagious and attractive, and he actually did make me feel a little better.

"And I promise I'll cut it down to one personal question a day. Deal?" Logan said, cocking an eyebrow.

I thought for a second.

"Do I get to ask you a question, too?" I asked him.

"I don't care. Sure." He replied back with a shrug.

"Okay, then. Deal." I agreed as I brushed a strand of long, dark hair behind my ear.

"Aaaall right, here we go." Mark's voice came from behind me as he swooped to our table, holding two plates. "Tenders with barbeque, and the meatloaf platter. Anything else I can get you guys?"

"I'm good." Logan grumbled, then raised his eyebrows at me, "You good, Ana?"

I nodded, and Mark whisked himself away to a table with two elderly people seated at it.

As Logan reached for the salt and pepper, I picked up a french fry off my plate and crunched into it. It was fresh and crispy, but needed ketchup.

I reached my hand for the bottle, just at the very moment Logan had decided to replace the salt shaker. My finger tips grazed the side of his rough, leathery palm, sending an instant shock up my spine.

"S-sorry." I stuttered, my reflexes ripping my hand back to my body.

He didn't say anything and simply gave me a look. He grabbed the bottle of ketchup, set it down in front of me, then began cutting his meatloaf with a knife and fork.

Mark checked on us periodically as we ate, chatting about this and that, but mostly we were quiet. We each denied soda refills the fourth time Mark passed our table, and Logan asked for the check instead.

I had gobbled down the four crispy chicken tenders about ten minutes after receiving my plate, so now I just picked at the few left over fries.

Our waiter dropped the check on our table, and it barely had time to hit the surface before Logan snatched it up. I couldn't see how much the total was, but judging by Logan's expression, it wasn't too expensive.

He dug in his pocket for his wallet, but as he dug for the right bills, the front door slammed open far too roughly... And suddenly, the hostess screamed.

"Oh, fuck..." Logan hissed as I whipped my head around to see what was happening.

I gasped, my heart almost halting in my chest as I layed eyes on three men storming into Denny's. Each of them wore jeans, black t-shirts, and black skii masks. They were armed with heavy automatic assault weapons.

The biggest one in the front yanked the screaming hostesa from her podium and pointed his gun in the direction of all the tables. A few women shrieked, shielding their children, who cried out in fear.

"Everybody, ON THE GROUND!"

xxx TBC xxx


	6. Chapter Five

Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Everyone in the restaurant stared with eyes as wide as their dinner plates at the three gunmen.

In the back, I could hear waitresses and kitchen staff screaming, and the sound of pots and pans clattering onto the floor. More men's voices could be heard shouting orders for them to be quiet... There must have been gunmen storming in through the back, too.

"I said, ON. THE. GROUND." The man pointing his gun toward all the diners screamed, tightening his grip on the red haired hostess, "NOW!"

An eldery woman at the table across from ours whimpered tearfully as she and her feeble husband hobbled to the floor.

I glanced at Logan, who looked consumed in his thoughts, a slight scowl twisting his facial features. He nodded at me to get on the floor, and my heart sank a little. My body felt so robotic as I climbed out of the booth and lowered myself to the ground.

We were then ordered to crawl to the back of the restaurant as the leader's two henchmen pulled heavy duty chains and padlocks from a duffel bag they had lugged inside, looping them through the handles of the door. It was a short crawl, and as Logan and I put our backs against the wall, I got a good look at all of our fellow victims.

There was the old couple that seemed to be struggling to move across the cheap, scratchy carpet, the family that had passed our booth earlier that consisted of a Hispanic woman, her husband, and three little boys, a man looking somewhere around Logan's age dressed in business attire, and the staff of the restaurant; Mark, two other waitresses about my age, the cooks, and their supervisor: A potbellied man with glasses and a bald spot right ontop of his head.

The two other armed men emerged from the back, joining the three that had burst through the front. All of them looked almost identical, dressed in the exact same clothes and skii masks. Their builds were a bit different, though, and so were their muffled voices.

"The kitchen's cleared out. Tommy's workin' on the fuse box." The man on the far right informed the leader in a New York accent.

The leader nodded and wrapped his arm tightly around the hostess's neck.

He shoved the barrel of his gun under her chin, causing her to wail out in terror.

"Alright," The man began to speak again, his voice deep and dark, "Nobody speak, nobody move, unless I tell you to. I'm not scared to shoot any one of you."

While he spoke, another gunman went down the line of us, collecting wallets and cell phones. He snatched the black books from Mark and the two waitresses, snagging their tip money along with their personal cash. When he got to us, he shoved his hand into Logan's face, and he ground his teeth as he handed over his wallet.

I gaped at Logan as I watched him just give in to these evil men... I knew he could slice them to bits. But as I looked into his eyes, I could see that he was holding back in fear for everyone else in the room. He could only get through so many of the gunmen before one of them fired, potentially taking the life of one of these innocent people.

Through his eyes, I could see the gears in his brain turning, a plan brewing deep within his mind.

"Cough up the cash, sweetheart." The masked man's disgusting, raspy voice came from above me, and I turned to see his hand out in front of me.

I gulped and looked up into his face. I could only see his eyes, which were an olive green color. The whites were tinted pink, looking bloodshot and intoxicated. He wiggled his fingers expectantly, forcing me to have to speak.

"I-I... I don't..." I stammered, my eyes dancing around to avoid his, "I don't have any money..."

He lowered his hand and tilted his head to the side, looking from my face to Logan's.

"No money, huh?" He grumbled to me, "You out on a hot date to Denny's with your sugar daddy?" He nodded at Logan.

My cheeks burned, knowing everybody in the room could hear. I stared at the man's shoes, my lips clamped shut. It took everything I had to control the festering pressure building up inside my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Logan clenching his fists in bottled up anger.

A part of me wished he'd ditch whatever plan he was trying to ride out and just explode on these assholes, but the rational part of me knew that was too risky.

The man in front of me started to chuckle, making my stomach twist and turn into knots... I suddenly wished I hadn't of scarfed down those chicken tenders so quickly.

"Well if you're broke, how are you gonna pay us for our services?" The joking tone in his voice was menacing and dark as he stepped closer to me, making me flatten myself against the wall. "What do you think, Travis? She doesn't have any cash."

He looked over his shoulder at his comrades, who in turn just passed the look to their leader, Travis, who still held on tightly to the petrified hostess. She whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut.

"So forget it for now." Travis growled.

"C'mon, man, let's have some fun for once." The man in front of me pressed, and my heart skipped a beat.

I couldn't believe they were actually debating something so disgusting in front of me, Logan, and everyone else. I felt like an object... It was humiliating. Next to me, Logan was silently fuming, his nostrils flared and his eyebrows scrunched up.

"We're not here for fun, we're here for profit." The ring leader snapped at his grunt. But then, his eyes dropped down to mine, and I looked away. His sinister gaze on me was enough to make me feel violated. "... I guess it doesn't matter this time. Just make it quick and get rid of her when you're done."

It took a second for me to register those words, but by the time I did I was already being violently wrenched off the floor by my upper arm.

"Aah..!" I gasped in pain at the man's tight grip on my fragile skin, like a powerful bear claw.

"HEY-" Logan started to yell, but it only earned him a swift kick to the mouth from my attacker, catching me and all the other hostages off guard.

He looked dazed, blood dripping from his bottom lip.

"Logan..!" I cried out as the man dragged me toward the kitchen. Tears burned my eyes and began rolling down my cheeks.

I could hear the Hispanic mother and the two waitresses whimpering in fear as I was paraded past them, and the victimized men looked away, unable to do anything to stop this.

"Don't worry, honey," The man growled into my ear, grunting as I pointlessly struggled against him, "I'm your boyfriend, now."

"No!" I instinctively shrieked, only wearing myself out as I struggled to free myself from his grasp.

The mystery man forcefully pulled me around the corner and into the kitchen, which looked like the aftermath of a tornado.

The floor was covered in flour and spilled spices, mixing together and making a film of rusty colored dust across the tile. A big, silver bowl of pancake batter had been slung across the counter, landing in the sink and leaving gooey batter splattered across the wall and even on the ceiling.

Countless pots, pans and utensils were strewn left and right, and a sea of salad lettuce coated everything in sight. And, if I didn't play my cards right, this chaotic kitchen would be the last thing I would ever see.

The masked man roughly tossed me out in front of him, and I stumbled to a fall in front of the greasy stovetop. I slid across the floor a little, coughing as the flour and spices stirred up into a cloud around my face.

I felt a hand grip my shoulder and force me onto my back, and gasped as the man pressed his knee into my chest. I kicked my legs and tried to get some kind of traction on the tile, but my flat Chuck Taylors just slid around in all the powdery spices. The pressure from the man's knee increased, bearing down on my ribcage. It was getting harder to breathe...

As the man fumbled to rip his gun holster off his shoulder and over his head, I frantically searched the area around me for anything I could reach and use against my captor. I saw a whisk just above my head that was wet and sticky with egg yolks, a strainer tipped onto its side spilling noodles across the floor right next to my left hip, and a measuring cup strewn carelessly onto the floor down by my feet... Nothing deadly, and that's what I needed.

Panic set in as the gunman reached for his belt buckle, unfastening the clasp far too quickly. I could tell from the sickening look in his eyes that he was grinning, taking pleasure in torturing me.

Outside in the dining room, I could hear Logan coming back to his senses. His voice roared out, calling my name and demanding I be brought back out.

"Shut him up. Fucking shoot him!" Travis's voice snarled, quickly followed by a single gunshot and a series of screams.

"OH MY GOD...!" A young girl's voice screamed out, most likely one of the waitresses.

"He's dead!" Came the Hispanic woman's quivering voice, "Cover your eyes! My babies, cover your eyes!"

I froze as the man pinning me to the kitchen floor let out a belly laugh, deep and menacing, before turning his eyes back to mine.

"Sounds like that boyfriend of yours won't be making much more noise from here on out." He stated, sending a shiver down my spine.

Tears filled my eyes as I kept searching for a weapon, my will to live and the distraught realization that Logan had been shot fueling my mind and body. Finally, as if my silent prayers had been answered, I caught sight of a sharp pairing knife under the stove, all the way back against the wall... Far out of my reach.

I was running out of time, and I knew the only way I was going to have a chance at walking away from this was to channel my mutation. In this distressed state, that wasn't going to be easy.

But, this was life or death. So I stretched my arm as far as it would reach out toward the knife, willing and almost begging it to come to my fingers.

I felt a concentrated pressure start to build between my temples, which was a good sign, but it wasn't strong enough. I kept trying.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man's grubby hand reaching for my face. I pulled away in disgust, only earning me a painful wrench of my neck as he roughly twisted his fingers into my hair.

I yelped and gritted my teeth at the stinging pain, trying to keep my mind focused on the knife under the stove I so desperately needed.

"Hold still," The man hissed at me like the snake he was, "C'mon, don't worry, sweetheart... I'll make your last minutes memorable."

Those words were the boost I needed, causing my pounding heart to skip a beat under my attacker's knee, and the pocket of pressure to pop inside my head. The knife quivered before it shot across the floor under the stove, slapping into my waiting palm.

I gripped the handle and kept my hand hidden. I had to compose myself and wait for the right time to strike.

I gasped for air as the man lifted his knee off my chest, keeping his grip on my hair. He placed one leg on either side of my torso, and let out a sickening groan as he trailed a finger across my jawline, down my neck, over my collarbone, and around the curve of my right breast.

I clenched my jaw in fury as I felt his hand roam down to the hem of my tank top, brushing against my stomach as it snaked up toward my black bra.

As he moved his free hand up to his skii mask and lifted it just above his dry, cracked lips, I knew my chance was coming.

My adrenaline sky rocketed as the man leaned down toward my face, going in for some sort of kiss... The very thought of it made me nautious.

I waited until the last possible nano-second, just before his grotesque lips brushed my skin, to unleash my surprise attack.

As I felt his hot breath against my neck, I cried out and ripped my arm out from under the grimey stove, plunging the razor sharp blade into the side of the gunmen's throat.

His body reacted to the abrupt trauma by throwing itself back off of me. I sat up and scooted backwards in the opposite direction, watching as the man's hands shot up and grabbed at his throat.

A low gurgling sound bubbled up through his lips as blood began to leak from the puncture wound, spilling out and covering his hands and shirt. In his last moments of life, the man's legs kicked about, and his wide eyes helplessly searched the room.

When his body stopped squirming, I knew he was dead. Good riddance... Take that for memorable last moments.

I sighed and grasped the stainless steel counter top, pulling myself up onto my wobbly legs. I was covered in lettuce, flour, and other spices, my mascara mixed with my tears, leaving gray streaks down my pale face, and my hair was a tangled mess.

Just when I caught my breath and regained my composure, the bright fluorescent lights above me fizzled out, as well as the ones in the dining room. There were two emergency lights, one in the front of house and one in back, but other than that the restaurant was completely dark.

My breathing became shallow as I listened to the main gunman, Travis, begin to shout.

"Tommy, you idiot," His voice thundered, "You cut the green wire, didn't you?! I told you the green wire cuts out the-"

His shouts were suddenly cut abruptly short, and the people held captive began gasping and crying out in shock and disbelief. I jumped and covered my mouth as the sound of gunfire battered my eardrums, and I could have sworn I'd heard Logan's furious, animalistic roar.

But how was that possible? I thought he had been shot... I heard the bullet fire... But I didn't see it. Maybe he was alive...

I shrunk behind a giant stainless steel fridge as I heard the sound of footsteps storming closer, headed straight for the entrance to the kitchen.

When Logan's strong, battered figure stomped around the corner, his metal claws drawn and stained with blood, an emormous wave of relief washed over my entire body.

"ANABELLE!" He screamed out between his ragged panting. In the shadows, his scowling face was very dark and intimidating, but I knew I had nothing to fear.

I couldn't bring myself to say anything, so instead I stepped out into view, trying to keep from breaking down and buckling to the floor as Logan caught me in his sights.

We stared at each other, and for a second, the muscles in Logan's face relaxed slightly as he took in my still in-tact frame. The finger print shaped bruises on my upper arm was probably the worst of the damage I had received.

Finally, after the few seconds that felt like an eternity, Logan rushed to me. I took a few steps toward him, but my legs were so heavy, that's all I could muster.

"What did that bastard do to you, Anabelle...?!" He demanded in a husky growl as he grasped my frail shoulders and scanned my body, "Did he hurt you? I'll fucking kill him!"

"I'm a little ahead of you..." I muttered weakly, gesturing behind Logan with my eyes.

He turned over his shoulder and took in the sight of the body laying on the floor in a mess of blood. The handle of the knife was still protruding from his neck.

"What happened..." Logan asked me as he turned his intense gaze back to me, searching my eyes.

I took a deep breath as I stared into Logan's hazel orbs, actually feeling comforted by the eye contact for once.

"He... He threw me down right here... Got on top of me..." Logan's lips tightened together as he listened to my story, "Pinned me to the ground... He unbuckled his belt, but he only got a hand up my shirt before I..."

My voice cracked and cut out as the emotion of the attack shook me all over again. Logan searched my face to make sure I hadn't left any details out.

"What happened out there?" I questioned him. "I thought you were shot..."

"I played dead," Logan grumbled, "Bought me just enough time. When the lights went out, it was like an open door."

I gulped and nodded, knowing that meant he had killed the other gunmen.

I was about to ask Logan what he meant when he said he 'played dead', but the sound of the backdoor handle suddenly jiggling kept me silent.

Logan's head snapped up as he stared at the door, instantly stepping in front of me and taking an offensive stance. He clenched his fists, and I flinched at the metalic slicing sound of his metal claws shooting into view.

The door popped open, allowing the yellow glow of a streetlamp to trail in from outside. It illuminated Logan's body and cast a long shadow behind him that I was hidden in.

Another body stepped into the now open doorway from the opposite side. It was another man holding a gun, dressed in the same dark outfit, wearing the same skii mask.

"Travis, I think I-" He stopped in his tracks when he layed eyes on Logan, instantly dropping down to his claws, "...What the fuck...?"

Logan wasted no time and began walking toward the armed man, who lifted his weapon and fired three shots in the blink of an eye.

I screamed as the bullets struck Logan in the head, chest and shoulder, the jolting impact completely visible. But to my amazement, he was still standing, simply shaking off the powerful blows... I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Logan had just taken three shots from a fully automatic assault rifle, and he was still standing... He should have had gaping holes driven through his body, or chunks of flesh missing.

By the look in the last crook's wide eyes, he was thinking the very same thing.

Instead, I heard a soft metal clink on the floor, followed by another, then another... My eyes trailed to the floor, and I spotted three small fragments of crumpled metal... The bullets! His body had stopped them and pushed them out.

That's how he played dead... I was astonished, unable to pull my eyes away from the bullets or even blink until Logan began stomping toward the armed man.

He tried to scurry away, but it was no use. Logan grabbed him by the throat with his left hand, swiftly impaling him with the claws on his right. The man let out a gurgling moan as Logan yanked his claws upward, severing all of the vital organs.

All the jerking motions of the life leaving the man's body ceased, and Logan ripped his claws free, tossing the corpse aside with a lifeless thud.

He was breathing heavy, his nostrils flaring and the veins in his arms, forehead were pulsating.

"Come on," Logan urged me breathlessly, "We gotta get outta here before cops show up."

I nodded and followed Logan as he darted out the backdoor, glancing behind me to see the other victims inside the restaurant staring at us with wide eyes through the kitchen doorway.

I could hear the police sirens echoeing in the distance as we raced through the parking lot and finally made our way back to the truck. Logan was right, the police would be here any minute, and it wouldn't be good for us to stick around any longer.

My body seemed to be functioning on autopilot as I climbed into the truck and slammed the door, listening to Logan curse under his breath as he jammed the key into the ignition and started the engine.

The tires peeled out against the asphalt as Logan cranked the steering wheel and pounded on the gas, tearing the truck out of the parking lot and into the street.

As we disappeared into the early night, I caught a glimpse of the flashing red and blue lights atop four police cruisers. They were emerging over the hill at a rapid speed, their screeching sirens echoeing louder... But they were only visible for a few seconds before we disappeared around a bank of tall pine trees, headed once more for the unknown...

xxx TBC xxx


	7. Chapter Six

The inside of the camper began to warm by 7:30 AM, despite its running AC unit, which gently woke me out of my sleep. I stretched my long limbs out on the couch, letting out a groan of content as my muscles relaxed.

As my body and mind transitioned, I tried my best to ignore the haunting events from the night before, but they were just too intense to set aside.

My eyes glued themselves to the ceiling as I relived the sound of the men's voices, and the looks on everyone's terrified faces...

But the thing that stuck with me most was the gunman's painfully tight grip on my arm as he dragged me to my then seemingly inevitable death. My hand instinctively shot up to the spot on my arm his fingers had wrapped around, rubbing the sensitive skin... It was still sore, no doubt at least a little bruised, but I didn't want to look at it yet.

I sighed and gently pressed my palms to my groggy eyes, thinking of how lucky I was to have coaxed my telekinesis to work in my favor. I wished I could do that all the time, and wondered why I couldn't...

"You just need practice." Logan's raspy voice echoed inside my head, the image of his smiling face across the table from me at Denny's flashing along with it.

That's when I slowly sat up, realizing Logan and I hadn't said one word to each other since the incident, other than a brief "Goodnight."

A small yawn escaped from my lips as I peered about the camper, listening for the sound of Logan's soft, dull snore that I'd become familier with over the past few nights. I waited a second, hearing nothing but the whirring of the AC unit, and the faint sound of birds chirping outside.

I stood up, and my bare feet padded across the camper's floor, over to the tiny booth-like table to the right where the window was. I crawled up into the left side of the booth, leaning past a cloud of dust particles floating in a beam of early morning sunlight peeping through the thin curtains as I pushed them aside.

The leak of sunlight turned into a flood when I moved the soft, yellowing, used-to-be-white fabric, illuminating the inside of the camper. I squinted as my eyes adjusted, then peered outside, scanning the area.

All the way to the left, I could see the worn tire marks in the grass of the trail we had taken late last night. We were on a public campsite, Buck's Run Camping Community, to be exact. Logan had payed a $15 fee for three nights of camping, then drove at least 30 minutes out into the grounds, just to make extra sure we weren't too close to any other campers.

Far out in the distance, past a cluster of mossy trees and across a wide, open field of browning grass, I could see a glimpse of smoke rising from another campsite's fire. My stomach started to growl at the thought of the breakfast they were most likely cooking, but I ignored it.

I turned my head to the right, peering at a small, natural spring a few yards away. The water was clear and sparkly, and Logan's two wicker chairs were set up next to it. In the middle of them, a firepit was made with stones placed in a circle, and some dirt stirred up in the middle.

The entire area was shaded by tall, leafy trees. I felt my eyebrows scrunch up as I realized Logan was no where to be seen, but he must have gotten up early and put the chairs out.

I backed away from the window, letting the curtains drop back down again. Crawling back out of the booth and retracing my steps back to the couch, I noticed a small paper laying on the end table, next to the clock.

"Hm..?" I hummed to myself as I reached out and grasped the paper, holding it up to look at it.

It was a note, written in Logan's scratchy handwriting. I could hear his voice in my head as my eyes passed over the words.

'Went out for firewood. Refilled the tank in the shower, just flip the switch on the wall next to the sink and give it 10 minutes to warm up. Towels are in the cabinet. Try not to wander too far while I'm gone.

-Logan'

When I was done reading the note, I absent mindedly flipped it over to the the back before setting it back down. A shower did sound nice... Much better than washing my hair in a gas station bathroom sink.

I stepped to the couch and flopped down, reaching over the arm and yanking my duffel bag into my lap.

The first thing I pulled out was my shower bag, containing my shampoo, conditioner, make-up, toothbrush, razors, and hairbrush.

Then, I grabbed a pair of red boyshort underwear and a bra to match, followed by a loose fitting camo print t-shirt, and a pair of raggedy, torn up jean shorts I had been holding onto since my 21st birthday... There was just something about them that always fit me just right.

I set my duffle bag aside, gathered my clothes and shower pack, and slipped into the bathroom.

The space was tiny, but manageable. There was a shower with a crinkly navy blue curtain on the left, and to the right was the toilet, small sink with a single cabinet underneath it, and cloudy mirror.

I had just enough room to move, and that's all I needed. Just the promise of a hot shower was enough to keep me happy. I found the button next to the sink that Logan's note had mentioned to me. It was a small switch with a red design on it that looked like a shower head, spraying down red squiggles which could only be water... So, I pressed it, and a buzzing sound came from somewhere up inside the ceiling of the camper.

I listened to it for a second before setting my clothes up on the counter next to the sink, crouching down and opening the cabinet below. I pulled the first blue and white striped towel off the stack of three, avoiding a cluster of crosswords and word searches, half filled out in Logan's handwriting.

The hinges of the cabinet door creaked quietly as I lightly shut it, adding the towel to the pile on the counter.

The ceiling was still humming, meaning I still had a few minutes to wait for hot water.

I mosied back out into the small main living space of the camper, folding my blanket into a neat square and setting it at the end of the couch. The calm, muffled chattering of birds could be heard on the other side of the thin walls as I continued to the kitchen cabinets, swinging them open and shut until I came upon my box of Cosmic Brownies.

It wasn't exactly a healthy breakfast, I know, but the minute I looked at the box, I got an intense craving for chocolate.

Reaching into the box, I frowned when my fingertips only touched three plastic packages out of the original ten... I guess I'd been going a little crazy on them... Oh well, I always had a sweet tooth the size of Texas.

I grabbed a small glass out of the neighboring cabinet, and with the brownie in my hand, I crossed the floor at a diagonal and made my way to the mini fridge, setting the package and glass ontop of it as I popped the door open.

I breathed sigh of relief as the chilly air rushed out of the small box, cooling my arms and face. I scanned the two slightly crowded shelves for milk, finally spotting it in the very back corner on the top.

Careful not to knock the other items over, I pulled the half gallon jug out of the fridge, unscrewed the cap, filled my glass a little less than half full, then replaced it and shut the door.

Usually, I hated to drink plain milk... There was just something about it that grossed me out. There were only three things I could drink it with: Cookies, cereal, and exhibit A: brownies.

I flopped down on the couch once again. The plastic crinkled as I unwrapped the Little Debbie snack, picking a neon pink chocolate covered candy out of the thick, rich frosting, and popping it into my mouth.

The first bite of the brownie was overpoweringly sweet, rich and chocolatey. I chewed it quickly, taking another small bite and washing it down with a sip of ice cold milk.

I sat there on the couch for a few minutes, taking my time eating my brownie and drinking my milk. The camper had a yellowish morning glow to it, and when I listened close I could faintly hear the water in the spring trickling outside.

When I was done eating, I stood up and glanced at the clock on my way back to the kitchenette. 8:09 AM, and Logan still wasn't back yet.

I made a face as I wondered where he would have gone for firewood for so long. After I dropped the brownie wrapper into the trash and rinsed my glass out in the sink, I paused with it still in my hand.

My distorted reflection stared back up at me in the shine of the blueish green glass, and I started to chew the inside of my lip in thought.

"You just need practice..." Logan's voice echoed in my head again, "...Practice..."

"Okay..." I whispered to myself in an exhale. "Practice."

I anxiously turned my crystal blue eyes up toward the cupboard, took a few deep breaths, and focused. I stared at the faux wood, pushing everything else out of my mind but the image of the hinges creaking open.

At first, nothing happened. I didn't let it discourage me, though, and kept trying.

"Open..." I whispered to the cabinet door, narrowing my eyes as I felt the pressure start to build up. "Come on... Come on..."

I'm sure to any normal person, I would have looked completely bonkers, standing there pleading with the cabinet to open, when I could just reach up and use my hand. It would take two seconds.

I wasn't in a hurry though, so time had nothing to do with it... And unfortunatly, I wasn't just any normal person.

In fact, in today's society I wasn't even considered human, so it didn't matter what I looked like to anyone.

My stomach jumped as the cabinet door budged just the slightest bit, responding to my mind's energy. I couldn't fight back my gleeful grin, but I did my best to control my excitement.

I didn't want to lose focus. That was key.

Taking in and holding a deep breath, I stared intensely at the cabinet door, imagining my hands reaching out and grasping the handle... Slowly, it began to ease open.

I chewed my bottom lip in concentration, keeping my mental grip on the small door, until finally it settled in an open position.

A triumphant smile spread across my face, and I glanced down at the damp glass in my hand. Feeling brave, I held it up in front of me, staring at it and consuming my mind with it.

I twirled the glass around a few times, feeling the smooth surface slide against my finger tips. When I felt a slight resistence the third time I tried to twirl it around, I held very still... My fingers gradually loosened their grip and released the glass, leaving it floating in mid-air.

"Yes...!" I cheered myself on in a soft whisper, never taking my eyes off the floating object in front of me. "Okay, okay... into the cabinet."

The first attempt to guide the glass into the cabinet was a failed one. It only wobbled a bit, then slipped from my mental grip. I gasped and quickly reached out to cradle the fragile object in my hands before it could crash into the counter.

The second attempt was exactly the same, causing me to sigh in frustration.

I knew the hot water was probably ready by now, but I was determined to get this right.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I gathered the mental energy I needed, feeling it pin point the glass and latch onto it, lifting it from my hands.

I let my eyes blink open again, keeping my hands raised just in case the glass went for a free fall for a third time. But, to my amazement, it stayed floating.

I used my hands to guide it through the air, and smiled as it finally reached the cabinet, setting itself down gently. I tried to telekinetically shut the door again, but my excitement got the best of me, putting too much oomph into it.

The cheap wood clattered loudly, and I yelped in surprise... followed by a giggle of excitement. I was getting better at this, slowly but surely.

Who knows what I could learn to do with it if I tried hard enough? I guess what they say might be true; 'practice makes perfect'.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

I took my time in the hot, steamy shower, letting my muscles relax and unwind. The scent of my strawberry shampoo surrounded me, fusing with the steam and cloaking my body as I went through my routine.

I sighed in content as I reached down and cranked the lever to the right twice, halting the flow of water and allowing the small shower head to drip dry. I grabbed a hold of the blue shower curtain and pulled it to the side, the metal rings clinking as the slid along the curtain rod.

The water dripping from my hair slapped against the tub as I leaned over and wrung it out, drying it the rest of the way to damp with the towel.

I used my palm to wipe the foggy mirror clear, blinking at my reflection. My usually pale, porcelain cheeks were flushed and splotchy from the hot water, and my long dark hair was a crazy mess.

I glanced down to my arm, studying the all too noticeable bruises in the shape of finger prints. I groaned inwardly as I looked away, just hoping the sleaves of my t-shirt would cover them.

After my teeth and hair were brushed, I started on my make-up. Foundation and powder first, then some neutral brown eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and finally black mascara.

The steamy fog was finally cleared from the bathroom, and I could see myself more clearly in the mirror now. I batted eyelashes at myself.

I had always loved how black eyeliner and mascara made my ice blue eyes pop against my pale skin. My make up routine had been basically the same since I was about 17.

Making sure to tidy up and leave the bathroom the way I had found it; An old habbit my mom had burned into my brain, I opened the door, expecting to see Logan sitting on the couch, or fixing something up in the kitchenette.

But, still, he wasn't anywhere to be found. I furrowed my brow and stepped outside the front door, letting it clatter shut.

No Logan.

I put my hands on my hips, squinting in the bright sun as I peered around. A passing breeze tossed my still damp, strawberry scented hair all around my head until my hands shot up to tame it.

"Where the hell could he have gone...?" I mumbled to myself.

I started to head toward the lawn chairs to sit and wait for Logan to come back, but after a little thought, I walked right on past them, down a path into a woodsy area. This was a family camping ground, what could be so dangerous out here?

Maybe I'd stumble across Logan.

Plus, his note said not to wander far... He didn't say not to wander at all.

xxx TBC xxx


	8. Chapter Seven

The woods was beautiful and serene.

Energetic wild life and bright, healthy vegetation overwhelmed my eyes everywhere I looked. It was like something you'd see in a science textbook, or a nature show. I smiled as a small rabbit scampered across my path, which was clear and molded into the ground from probably years of ATV and foot traffic.

As the cheerful sound of birds chirping from all around me filled my ears, I knew it was a good choice to leave the camper and take a walk. After last night, I really needed some time to clear my thoughts, and what better way to do that than with nature?

So, I took my time strolling down the path, pausing here and there to look at the colorful flowers growing wild from the ground. A thought that I should have left a note for Logan like he had done for me crossed my mind suddenly, and I frowned.

I brushed it off with a shrug of my shoulders. Oh, well. Too late now.

After walking for a few more minutes, I came to a break in the trees. In front of me was a dusty gravel path, stretching out for a few miles to my left, and extending about 12 feet to my right before rounding into a bend and contiuing to a place that I couldn't see.

Long, whispy, tan weeds grew from either side of the path, reaching about an inch past my knees. They were itchy, so I quickly bounced through them until my shoes hit the gravel.

My pale blue eyes squinted in the bright morning sunlight as I peered around. Just the extra few feet made a world of difference on the view I had.

I could see a little ways around the corner now, where the edge of a small lake began. Otherwise, everything around me was open field and trees. This must have been a pretty unknown area, because I didn't see any people around.

I made a face, thinking about turning around and heading back for the camper, but instead my feet drove me forward. I walked around the bend, and had to edge around an overgrown bush to see the entire lake.

It was an oblong shape, narrow and shallow at the end closest to me, growing wider and deeper the further it stretched away from me.

Along with the shape, the water closest to me was a peridot green color, blending into a dark, rich blue the wider and deeper it became.

Tall trees with drooping limbs covered in moss bordered the lake, providing plenty of shade and a strong, soulful southern feel to it.

Just a little up the sandy bank I could see an old dock, reaching out about 9 or 10 feet into the water, where it was still fairly shallow. On the dock stood two little boys with golden blonde hair and fishing poles in their hands.

I guess I spoke too soon about there not being any other people around. But as I noticed their bicycles laying in the tall weeds a few feet away from the dock, I figured they weren't camping near here. They had probably stumbled upon this place the same way I had.

The boys were obviously brothers. One was around 8, and the other looked a little older, maybe 11 or 12, but their features, like the blonde hair, were almost identical. Sandy freckles, green eyes, and a straight, narrow frame.

They hadn't noticed me, so I hung back a bit, a soft smile on my face. Their pure childhood innocence charmed me and took me back to the few good times I did have as a kid.

The older brother leaned down and pulled a wriggling worm out of a muddy yellow bucket that sat between the two of them. The younger brother watched, his eyes wide as the hook pierced the worm, still flailing about.

"That's how ya do it, Jace." The older brother said to the younger; Jace; In a thick southern drawl, reminding me we were in Alabama.

"Um..." Jace stammered, glancing down at the bucket of creepy crawlies uncertainly, "Could you do it for me, Tyler?"

His voice had the same swampy, southern twinge, and sounded small and meek as he clutched his fishing pole. Tyler frowned, but leaned down into the bucket and snagged another worm.

"All right, I'll do it for ya just this once, only since it's yer first time," He sternly told the little blonde boy in front of him, "But if yer gonna come fishin' with me now, yer gonna bait yer own hook from now on."

Jace nodded his head, the golden blonde strands of hair bobbing up and down in his eyes. "Okay."

Tyler grabbed ahold of Jace's hook, steadying it and paused to look up.

"You watchin'?" He asked his little brother, who nodded again, "Okay. It's real easy. You just gotta get a good grip on 'im, like this... Then ya take yer hook, and poke 'im right through here. There, ya got bait."

I watched as Tyler stood up and released Jace's hook, letting the weight of the worm swing it back and forth in the air. Jace's eyes followed it as if it were a pocket watch at a hypnotism show.

The brothers casted their lines out into the shimmering lake, Jace needing a little help from Tyler, and waited. I could hear them chattering about something, but I was too far back to hear clearly.

When Jace yanked up the first fish, a small Bass, he squealed with delight. Tyler jumped for joy and praised his little brother. It made me smile.

As Tyler showed Jace how to get the lively fish off his hook, I took to minding my own business and trailing down to the edge of the bank. I gazed out over the sparkly blue/green water before taking a seat in the grass, just at the edge of the sand.

A summer breeze passed through, brushing my long hair away from my neck and cooling the skin. I sighed in content, still hearing the young boys talk and laugh up the bank.

I sat in that spot for about 20 minutes until Tyler and Jace hopped on their bikes and moved on, leaving the peaceful serenity of the lake all to me. I stood up and brushed the sand and grass from my shorts, strolling on the lake's perimeter toward the dock.

Along the way, I picked up flat stones and attempted to snap them from my hands with my telekinesis, and send them skipping across the water.

The first one sort of just rolled from my palm and thunked to the ground.

"Okay, not enough force." I instructed myself as I bent down to scoop up the same stone.

I positioned it in my palm, holding it flat and staring at it. The familier pocket of pressure began to fester inside my head, but again the stone just sort of rolled away. It dropped to the ground again, and I sighed.

"Maybe I need a smaller rock." I told myself as I scanned the sand.

All of the stones near me looked way too pointy and heavy, so I walked down a few feet, almost two thirds of the way to the old, rickety dock.

"Aha!" I gasped as I layed eyes on a smooth, flat, mostly round stone jetting out from the sand.

I picked it up, then positioned it in my hand, and really focused. I stared at the stone, picturing it snapping quickly out of my hand, like a whip.

When I felt it begin to vibrate against my palm, I was sure it was going to work. So I pictured the whip cracking, expecting the stone to rocket into the lake... But I was wrong.

"OW!" My voice yelped as I felt something hard strike me just above my left eyebrow.

My hands shot up to the area, throbbing in pain as I realized I had definately put enough telekinetic force into it, but somehow caused the stone to fling into my face instead of the water.

I groaned softly as I prodded the spot above my eyebrow with my fingertips. It felt tender, and a small lump was forming under the skin.

"Ooow... Dammit." I muttered to myself, walking the rest of the way to the dock and taking a seat, "I think I'm done for now... Stupid mutation."

I tried to ignore the throbbing feeling in my forehead and instead cast my eyes out on the open water. I was definately feeling discouraged... I really was trying hard to teach myself how to do this, but I was failing miserably.

The best I could do was put a cup in a cabinet from two feet away...

I sighed, trying not to be too hard on myself. I just had to try different things and figure out what worked.

"Looks like you decided to wander, huh?"

A very familier voice spoke from behind me, sparking something in my mind and heart. I whirled away from the scenic water and layed my eyes upon Logan.

He was standing at the shady treeline, the tall weeds hiding his feet and shins. The sleaves of his unbuttoned red flannel shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his masculine forearms. A tight black tank top hid his chest and torso, and the bright silver of the dogtags glinted against the black fabric. His snug, faded jeans were smudged with brown and green stains, most likely from dirt and grass.

As he approached me, I could see something strapped to his back. He held it up with a leather belt that rested over his left shoulder.

"Yea, I just needed to take a walk." I replied to him as I took a seat on the edge of the dock, my long slender legs dangling just above the sand, "How'd you find me?"

Logan lugged the pack on his back down to the ground, which turned out to be blocks of firewood. They were all stacked together neatly, like a game of Jenga. Two leather belts were wrapped around them, snuggly binding them together.

"I came out this way to get wood. Guess I didn't realize how far I went." Logan sat next to me on the dock, and made a face as he looked over at me, "Jesus, what the hell happened to your forehead?"

Instantly, my hand shot up to the bump on my forehead above my eyebrow. I felt the familier tenderness of a bruise forming. My face flushed as I glanced back over at Logan.

"I, uh, was trying to skip rocks." I explained meekly while kicking at the sand below my feet.

"With your face?" Logan said with a smirk, his voice cracking a little as he tried to hide his chuckles.

I furrowed my eyebrows a little as I shot him a glare.

"No, I was trying to do it with my telekinesis." I corrected him, "I just... couldn't get the stone to fly in the right direction."

I stared down at my feet as I admitted my problem, seeing Logan nod out of the corner of my eye.

"Aah..." He said in understanding, "You okay?"

"It's a little sore." I responded with a small shrug.

Logan suddenly stood back up, strolling out into the sand and bending down to scoop up stones.

"What are you doing, Logan?" I asked him, my voice full of curiosity.

"Well you mentioned skipping stones," Logan replied as he took a stance, then flung one of the stones out toward the water with his right hand, "I wanted to see if I was still any good."

I followed the stone as it skidded across the calm circles of the water, finally plunking under after the sixth skip. The water rippled, then calmed again as if nothing had ever disturbed it.

"Pretty good." I said to Logan with a grin.

He turned to me, squinting in the sunlight, and waved me into his direction. "Let's see what you got."

My mouth fell open a little as I stammered for a response. I felt my bashfulness taking over, not wanting to make a fool of myself in front of Logan.

"I already tried, remember?" I reminded him while pointing to the small bruised bump above my left eyebrow.

"That was with your mind." He countered, flinging another stone out across the water, "I'm talking about the old fashioned way, like this."

I reached up and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, staring at Logan as he tried to coax me over to him, holding a handful of stones out toward me.

"I... never really learned how."

"I'll teach you.

I paused, thinking up any other excuse, but my mind drew a blank. With a sigh, I pushed myself off the dock and headed toward Logan. My Converse cut off tennis shoes left prints in the damp sand as I got closer.

"Okay, take these," Logan instructed me, placing three flat, smooth rocks into my palm. "Now hold one of them like this. Yep, like that. Now fling it."

I nodded and followed his directions, flinging the stone toward the water, but it didn't feel right. The stone just sailed through the air, hitting the surface of the water with a hollow splash.

I tried again with the same result, holding only one stone in my hand now. I shrugged my shoulders and held it out for Logan to take.

"Told you." I said to him, but he didn't take the stone back.

Instead, he raised an eyebrow as I blinked up at him. Then, he moved behind me, catching me completely off guard.

"What are-" I began to question him, but my voice froze as I felt his hand reach out and grasp my wrist.

"Look, this is how you do it." Logan's low, raspy voice mumbled as he lifted my arm into form, "You're putting too much energy into it. It should feel natural."

My heart pounded as I focused on his arms brushing against mine, the masculine hair feeling bristly against my smooth, porcelain skin.

He guided my hand back, then flung it forward, my wrist still clasped in his strong hand.

"Let go." He told me at the last second, and I did.

The stone soared in a straight line, satisfyingly skipping three times across the water. I turned around and smiled up at Logan's attractive, maturely aged face.

"Thanks." I said in a soft, sincere voice.

But as I gazed up into his eyes, I felt my face fall sullen, remembering how I'd seen him get shot several times at close range the night before. He had no marks on his face what so ever, and I assumed his chest and torso were the same... The crumpled bullets had just wiggled from his skin and fallen to the floor...

"Anabelle?" Logan said my name, raising an eyebrow and searching my eyes, "You okay?"

I blinked a few times, realizing I had been staring for just a little too long. I turned away and looked at the water.

"Um, yea," I replied as I kicked a round pebble through the sand, "I was just thinking... about..."

Logan stared down at me, looking a little confused and waiting for an answer. I sighed, knowing I couldn't think of lie fast enough that would make sense.

"... I saw you get shot last night..." I confessed softly, "The bullets, they just... I mean... I'm just confused."

I walked to the edge of the lake, the toes of my shoes inching into the clear water. I lifted my thumb to my lips and nervously chewed on my nail.

Now I was waiting for Logan's response, terrified that I crossed a line somehow, even though I hadn't said much.

I heard Logan's footsteps slowly thudding in the sand behind me, and suddenly he was standing next to me. He reached up and ran his hand through his dark, wavy hair, then held it up in front of him.

I flinched at the sudden metallic sound of Logan drawing the claws from between his knuckles. I gulped lightly as I turned my eyes to look at them.

The razor sharp blades glinted in the sun, just like his dogtags had when I first saw him.

"It's just a part of me." Logan finally spoke up.

My eyes trailed to his face, but his were still glued to the claws, looking a bit distant. His thick, dark eyebrows furrowed just a little bit.

I was still confused, and as Logan lowered his eyes to mine, I knew he could tell. He sighed, shifting his weight a bit.

"The metal that these claws are made of..." Logan tried to explain, holding up his claws and seeming to search for his words, "... Covers my whole spine. It keeps things like bullets from... well... from killing me."

I blinked a few times, thinking this over.

"But... I've always had this weird ability to heal." He went on, quickly withdrawing his claws out of sight. "Things have happened to me that should have killed me, Anabelle."

That comment chilled me to the bone as I thought about what else could have happened to him, besides being shot. A few rocks around my feet levitated from the sand as gruesome images involuntarily flashed through my mind.

When I remembered how the bullets had struck Logan in the head, shoulder, and chest, jolting each body part backwards, one of the rocks snapped forward, skidding across the water and causing a small wake around it.

It startled me a little bit, and I gasped, which caused the other pebbles to jet forward and splash into the water, as well.

Logan's eyes studied me, then looked out into the water where the rocks had made a splash. "It's really sensitive, huh?"

I nodded and crossed my arms uncomfortably.

"Yea..." I mumbled, "It never works the way I want it to."

It was quiet again for a moment before Logan bent down once more and picked up another flat stone. He tossed it straight up and caught it a few times, earning a puzzled look from me.

Logan simply flashed me a half smile, holding his palm out flat and letting the small stone rest ontop of it.

"Wanna try one more time before we head back?" He asked me, a tempting wiggle to his brows.

I reached for the rock, but Logan withdrew his hand a bit. I looked up at him quizically.

"With your mind." He clarified, before moving his hand closer again.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" I asked Logan as I propped one hand on my hip and used the other to point at my forehead, "I don't want you to end up with a black eye or a busted tooth, or something."

"Hey," Logan said through the curved lip of a smile, "I just told you I heal fast, remember? Plus... You can do it."

I stared at the rock, then at Logan, my eyes full of uncertainty. But as he nodded at me, pushing me to try just one more time, I found a little courage deep in the pit of my stomach.

Taking a few deep breaths, I focused on the stone in Logan's hand, trying to accumulate the right amount of energy and pressure inside my head.

When I noticed the stone start to vibrate, I got nervous. I chewed my bottom lip, picturing the whip again.

I clamped my eyes shut, feeling the time was right, and imagined the end of the whip snapping crisply... And shortly after, the skipping sound of the stone bouncing across the water's surface.

I gasped and my eyes snapped open. Logan's palm was empty, and as he lowered his hand to his side, my smile beamed up at him.

"See?" He asked, grinning right back at me, "Told you you could do it."

xxxTBCxxx


	9. Chapter Eight

The walk back to camp through the woods was just as peaceful and serene as the walk out.

The sun was higher in the sky now, casting light straight down on the trees. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, speckling the forrest floor in glowing ribbons.

Logan tromped a few paces in front of me, leading the way down the narrow, beaten path between the trees.

Every so often, he would point out a specific bird or flower, telling me its name and a few fun facts about them.

"Yellowhammer." Logan said as he once more pointed up into the branches of a tall tree. "Emberiza Citrinella, if you wanna get fancy. Alabama's state bird."

As Logan fed me this slightly random information, I stared up into the lush green leaves above us where he had pointed. Perched on one of the lowest branches was a small, brightly colored bird.

Its head was neon yellow, and the feathers on its wings were a sandy brown color, edged in white. Near its tail was a smudge of fuzzy, fire engine red feathers. I smiled a little as the Yellowhammer's cheerful, chirpy tune filled my eardrums, mixing with the buzz of the locusts.

"How do you know all this stuff?" I asked Logan as we started walking again.

"I've been around a while." He replied to me while glancing over his shoulder.

It was quiet for a second as we walked, the sound of twigs snapping under our feet taking the place of our voices until I decided to speak up again.

"How old are you, Logan?" I asked curiously.

When he said he'd been around a while, it had made me realize that I didn't know his exact age, and he didn't know mine.

"Is that your personal question of the day?" Logan replied back in a question, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Umm." I hummed thoughtfully before shrugging my shoulders, "Sure."

"Well, I've lost track of a few birthdays, but I'm somewhere close to 42." He said to me, which utterly confused me.

I remembered the night before at Denny's when Logan told me he thought he was from Canada... How does a person not know where they're from, or their own age?

"How 'bout you, Ana?"

Logan's question caught me off guard. I'd gotten lost in my thoughts for a second, totally losing the conversation.

"Hm?" I said, signaling him to clarify what he meant.

"How old are you?"

"Is that your personal question of the day?" I repeated Logan's tone from earlier, hearing him chuckle.

"Why not." He said, "We've got plenty more days for other questions."

I smiled at the thought of staying with Logan... surfing the highways, camping... It wasn't a life for everyone, but it suited me just fine. It was a hell of a lot better than being alone, like I was before.

"I'm almost 27. My birthday's in three months..." I informed Logan, "Wait, we're in June, right?"

He nodded his head of dark hair, yanking the leather strap that held the bundle of wood to his back to get a better grip.

"My guess was about right, then." Logan said as he stepped over a fallen tree trunk in the path.

He turned around and watched as I repeated his actions, making sure I didn't trip. When I was safely on the other side of the trunk, Logan turned around and started walking again. I followed behind him.

"I think we're pretty close to the campsite, now." He said, but suddenly halted in his tracks.

I stumbled to a stop, almost slamming into the bundle of firewood on Logan's back.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I started to step around him.

He raised a finger to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet. Then he nodded his head up ahead of us toward a large buck, right in the middle of the path.

His head was lowered, grazing on a patch of green grass sprouting up from the ground. He lifted his thick neck and chewed his cud, the magnificent antlers on his head casting long shadows down on his muscular body.

Suddenly, the large animal caught sight of us, snapping his head over in our direction. His eyes were bright and alert, and his ears twitched underneath his antlers as he watched us.

My breath caught in my throat as the buck took a few steps forward, never taking his eyes off us.

Logan tensed, his arm instinctively shooting out in front of my body and nudging me back behind him a little bit.

We stayed perfectly still as the buck's smooth brown hair began to raise on the back of his neck. I thought for sure he was going to charge us.

But suddenly, the bushes to the left of the buck began to rustle softly, catching his attention. Shortly after, a doe emerged from the leaves.

Her body was slender, her legs long and lean, giving her an elegant look. White spots formed a pattern down her back, all the way to her white fluffy tail.

The buck seemed to calm at the sight of the doe. She twitched her ears at him, walking over and nuzzling his neck lovingly.

The buck responded, leaning down to gently nibble the side of the doe's face. It almost looked like he was kissing her.

Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the two animals took off, bounding through the trees and completely disappearing.

Logan slowly lowered his arm back to his side, and I let out a breath I hadn't even known I was holding.

"Wow..." I breathed.

"Yea..." Logan grunted in agreement before setting off again. "That was pretty close..."

xxx

xxx

The truck's doors hung open, and the radio was set on a rock station, blaring an old Alice in Chains song that I wasn't really familier with.

Logan and I were just lounging around the campsite, watching the day slowly pass. Birds chirped around us, and the sound of the fresh stream trickled lightly in the background.

While Logan sat comfortably kicked back in one of the wicker lawn chairs, beer in hand, I layed on my stomach in the grass. My elbows were propped on the ground, and my chin was rested in my palms as I stared at the tall green blades.

One by one, I zeroed in on them at close range, plucking them from the ground with my mind. I could feel the same kind of pressure building and releasing somewhere inside my head, but in much smaller bursts.

It was much easier for me to control in those small amounts, but plucking blades of grass from the ground wasn't exactly satisfying... It wouldn't do any good for self defense, either.

But it was the only thing I could do without hurting myself, for now. I let out a sigh, rolling over and laying on my back in the grass. Above me was nothing but sky and clouds, and I pictured shapes in the billowy white fluff.

I saw a unicorn at first, but slowly the wind morphed the cloud into a gnome, then a sort of lopsided heart. After that, it just became a huge floating blob.

"Hey, star gazer," Logan called out to me.

I sat up to look at him, and he was standing up, downing the last gulp of his Budweiser. He crushed the can in his strong grip before looking down at me. "You want a sandwhich?"

I nodded at him, standing up and brushing loose blades of grass from my shorts.

"Yea, that sounds good. I'll come with you." I said, following Logan as he started walking toward the camper.

Right as he grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, the Alice in Chains song on the radio faded out, and another one started.

The tune sounded extremely familier to me, and within seconds I caught onto it. 'Warning' by Incubus, one of my favorite bands.

"Oooh, I love this song!" I gasped as Logan and I walked inside the camper.

"Oh, yea?" He replied while getting all the sandwhich essentials out from the cabinets and mini fridge, "I never listened to much Incubus."

My mouth hung open for a second as I stared at Logan in disbelief.

He caught my facial expression out of the corner of his eye as he layed four slices of white bread out on two paper plates, and raised one of his eyebrows.

"What? I'm more of a Johnny Cash, George Straight, Lynard Skynard kinda guy..." He defended himself.

"Well, it's your loss." I told him with a shrug as I hummed along with the words.

"They don't sound too bad," Logan said as he began to assemble the sandwhiches, "Mayo?"

"A little bit." I made a gesture with my pointer finger and thumb, squinting at him through the small space between them.

Logan nodded and turned back to the small counter, throwing ham and provologne ontop of the bread and finishing the sandwhiches. He tossed a handful of BBQ chips on each plate, dusting the orange seasoning off his palms and onto the legs of his jeans.

He moved rather quickly, putting the meat, cheese, bread and mayo away. When he walked the plates over to the small booth-like table and set them down, he nodded me over to him.

"C'mon, sit down." He told me, moving over to the cabinets again and opening the one that held the glasses.

"You know I can pour my own drink, right?" I said slowly as I sat down behind one of the plates, "I'm a big girl."

Logan didn't say anything and simply sat a glass of sweet tea next to me, then scooted into the seat across from me with his own.

"I don't mind." He responded, just before biting one of the corners off his sandwhich.

"Well, you'd make an excellent waiter." I joked, raising my glass of tea to my smirking lips and taking a long sip.

Logan rolled his hazel eyes at me as he finished chewing the first bite, then took another small one.

We were quiet for a minute, minus the sound of chips crunching between our teeth. Logan and I were beginning to get more comfortable with each other, but there were still times like these where I just didn't quite know what to say.

My eyes drifted around the camper, listening to the radio commercials coming from the cab of the truck.

"So make sure you tune in tomorrow from 2:00 to 5:00, 'cause ya gotta listen for the hidden clues." The twangy voice of the DJ energetically rambled on, "We're givin' away some biiig prizes, guys, I mean HUGE..."

Eventually I tuned him out, and found myself staring at Logan, like I often did... Honestly, I tried not to, I really did... But I just felt so drawn into him. And, yes, he was physically attractive.

Very attractive.

He rested one elbow on the table and stared down at his plate, having already finished his sandwhich, and now picked through his chips. I chewed slowly, only halfway done with my sandwhich.

Logan's dogtags dangled from his neck, swaying back and forth with his natural movements. I stared at them, wanting so bad to question them, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it... I was too nervous.

Plus, I had already used up my personal question of the day, anyway.

"You got yourself pretty good with that rock, didn't you?" Logan suddenly asked, and I blushed as my eyes snapped up to his.

"H-huh?" I stammered as he smirked at me, getting up to throw his now empty plate away.

But I knew I heard him right, because my hand instantly shot up to the small knot above my eyebrow self conciously. I winced as my fingertips grazed the tender area. "Does it really look that bad?"

Logan chuckled as he rinsed his glass out, gave it a quick pat down with a paper towel, and placed it back up in the cabinet.

"Relax, I was just joking." He assured me while leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest, "You look fine."

I felt my eyes stick to him for a second, admiring the stance he was in. The toned muscles in his biceps, backarms and forearms were clearly visible as he crossed them, and his eyes sparkled in the ribbons of sunlight that leaked into the camper through the small window.

My stomach felt like it was twisting inside out as Logan flashed me a half smile, and I realized I was staring for a little too long...

"Spacin' out...?" He asked me, causing me to instantly look back to my plate, my pale cheeks burning.

I thanked God for my long, grown out hair, which hung in my eyes and hid my face.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to..." I spoke quickly and struggled for my words, feeling the anxiety rise up inside of me, "...to stare."

"Whoa, slow down," Logan said with another light chuckle, "I know it's only been a few days, but I think you've noticed I'm a pretty easy going guy by now."

He paused and I heard his hollow footsteps walking toward me, and suddenly his hand gently rested itself ontop of my head, catching me off guard.

"Like I said before, just relax. Loosen up." He ruffled my hair as he spoke, and I looked up at him as he withdrew his hand, "I know I have these damn claws, but I'm not gonna scratch ya."

I blinked up at him, not really knowing what to say. 'Loosening up' was easier said than done... But I was sure it would happen in time.

xxx

xxx

...56...57...58...

Sheep after imaginary sheep bounded over a wooden fence inside my head as I desperately tried to lull myself to sleep. When sheep number 134 cleared the fence, I gave up and opened my eyes.

They didn't feel the least bit heavy... and I just couldn't get comfortable on the couch. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I lifted my head to look at the digital clock on the table.

3:17 AM glowed in red text. The light from the clock mixed with the subtle, pale luminescence from the moon leaking in from outside, giving the entire room a pink tint.

I flopped my head back into my slightly flat pillow with a low, restless groan. I absolutely hated nights like these... Why couldn't my mutant ability be turning night into day? Or speeding up the passing of time? That'd be pretty cool.

I let my mind consume itself in what my life might be like if I really did have either of those abilities. But after a few minutes passed, I began to hear strange sounds.

My body's natural reflex was to hold very still, and my breathing became shallow as my ears tuned into the noise.

Low grumbles and moans, coming from up in the loft. It was Logan, and they gradually grew louder. I could hear him lightly thrashing about in his sheets, sounding like he was struggling with something. Most likely a dream or a nightmare.

I kept listening, but only a few words were audible.

"...No..." Logan growled, his voice escalating, "...Ah..no...no...No!"

He was almost yelling now, and part of me wanted to see if he was alright... But suddenly, he let out an abrupt roar, scaring me half to death.

I covered my mouth so he wouldn't hear my cry of surprise. I knew he was awake now, I could hear his heavy breathing followed by a few select curse words.

My stomach fluttered as I felt his weight shift, rocking the camper just slightly. His footsteps softly padded toward the ladder that led down to my level.

I quickly yanked my blanked up to my nose, hiding my eyes behind my long bangs. I was still able to see, but it was so dark there's no way Logan would be able to see my eyes.

I held very still and leveled my breathing as Logan quietly made his way down the four-step ladder, placing one foot at a time onto the floor.

My eyes were glued to his back as he made his way to the mini fridge, popping the door open and snagging the milk jug from the top shelf. He let the door swing to an almost silent close, straggling into the kitchenette.

He reached up and grabbed the handle of the glass cabinet, but paused and held the jug up, studying how much milk was left. He pursed his lips, swirling the milk around at the bottom of the plastic container.

There was only enough left for maybe a small glass and a half, so Logan took his hand off the cabinet and simply unscrewed the cap, tossing it in the trash and taking a swig straight from the jug.

He lowered the jug from his mouth, wiping away the milk mustache with his forearm. His eyes looked exhausted and troubled, staring distantly out the window above the table. The beams of soft moonlight caught the sharp, distinct features of his face and body, illuminating him in a pale aura.

In that moment, he looked so calm and serene, almost like some sort of angel.

Logan finished the milk in the jug in just threw quick gulps, then quietly disposed of the empty container in the trash can. I watched as he ran a hand through his rumpled, slept on hair, seeming to debate whether to go back to bed or not.

When he sighed and crossed the floor of the camper, careful to step lightly as he passed by my "sleeping" body, I knew his choice. He snagged his leather jacket off a hook next to the door, pulled it on over his grey sweat pants and black tank top, then silently opened the door and crept outside.

When the door clicked shut, I tossed my blanket off of me and sat up. I tossed my legs over the side of the couch, stood up and crossed the floor. I gripped the door's handle, gently squeezing it and popping the seal as quietly as I could.

I pried it open just slightly, peering through the crack. I squinted one eye to get a clearer view. Logan was standing in the clearing, just staring up at the half moon in the open sky.

I heard him let out a groan, sounding exhausted and angry.

Finally, I stood up and pushed the door open. The chilly night air rushed around my body, only covered by a light green tank top and a thin pair of flannel pajama pants.

"Logan...?" I called out meekly as I wrapped my arms around my slender frame, "Are you okay...?"

He seemed surprised, quickly turning to look at me. His facial expression told me I'd caught him off guard, but he quickly disguised that by twisting his face into a serious look.

"Go back inside, Anabelle." He told me firmly, "It's cold out here, and you should be asleep. I'm fine, just needed some air."

"I've been up all night," I countered him as a breeze passed through, making me shiver a little, "I heard you talking in your sleep..."

"Ana, I said go inside...!" Logan snapped, raising his voice a little bit, "It's too damn cold out here, you're shivering."

I ignored his commands, and stepped off the steps leading from the door to the grass. The dew almost felt like ice on the bottoms of my bare feet, but I just ignored it.

"I told you earlier, I'm a big girl." I reminded him, "I'll be okay."

Logan glared at me and instantly shrugged his jacket off his shoulders as I approached him. He draped it around me when I got close, giving me a disapproving stare.

"Why couldn't you just listen to me and go back to bed?" Logan asked me in a low, husky tone, almost sounding like he was pleading.

"Did you have a nightmare?" I pressed, ignoring his question to me.

His eyes searched mine, and I could see the strain as he tried to think of something to say. Finally, he exhaled and ran both hands through his hair.

"Yes." He confessed, "It was a nightmare, one I have a lot actually... But that's it, I'm fine, I'm sorry I woke you up, and now we're both going back inside and going back to bed."

As Logan spoke, he placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me around to face the camper.

I could tell he was avoiding talking about the details of this reoccuring nightmare, but I didn't want to upset him anymore... So I didn't pry too much.

"I told you, I've been up all night." I said to him as he walked me up to the door, reaching out and holding it open for me.

I stepped up inside the small living space of the camper, and Logan was close behind, clicking the door shut.

"Alright," He grumbled as he lifted his jacket from my shoulders and placed it back on the hook, "Bed."

"...You mean 'couch'?" I replied, earning a gentle nudge on my back.

"Smartass..." Logan grumbled again, "You know what I mean."

I flopped down on the couch, curling into a ball and letting out an exhale as I pulled my blanket up to my chin.

"G'night." Logan said as he started up the small ladder.

"Night.." I replied back, quickly adding in, "...Logan, if you have another nightmare... Could you be a little quieter?"

I made sure he could hear the joking grin in my voice, and in turn heard a soft chuckle in his.

"Yea, yea... Go to sleep."

xxx TBC xxx


	10. Chapter Nine

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleeeease?"

"Nope."

"Seriously?!"

"Yup."

"Just hand it to me."

"Nope."

"Logan...!"

It was about 8:15 in the morning, and I sat across from Logan at the small booth style table in my pajamas, attempting to eat breakfast. My three strips of bacon and english muffin with butter still sat on my paper plate in front of me, and I stared at them, trying to will myself to work up an appetite.

After being up all night with a case of insomia, though, my stomach wasn't really welcoming the thought of any sort of food.

Logan had a newspaper open to the Local Events and Activities page, and we each had a hot mug of coffee sitting in front of us. Logan had already finished his breakfast and sipped his coffee black, but I couldn't do that. I needed cream and loooots of sugar to make my coffee drinkable.

I'd been able to get the powdered creamer from the cabinet, but when I had asked for the sugar, Logan refused to give it to me unless I took it from him with my telekinesis. So, this little argument had been going on for over twenty minutes.

I hadn't been able to sleep for more than maybe an hour the night before, so I was groggy, sluggish, and in no mood to try and move things with my mind.

"I can't make it work right now," I tried to tell Logan as I swiped for the canister of sugar, but he just reached out and snagged it, pulling it closer to him without looking up from the paper. "My mind's like jello, if that's even possible."

"You're not always gonna feel your best when you have to use it." Logan informed me, folding the newspaper to the backside and giving it a flick to straighten it out, "So, go on. It's just a sugar shaker."

I groaned and pressed my palms to my tired, achey eyes. "My coffee's getting cooooollddd!"

I knew I sounded sort of whiney, but I didn't care. I was so tired, I looked like hell sitting there in my pajamas with my messy bed head and puffy eyes, and I just wanted coffee... But the sugar was being held hostage just four inches away from me.

I drooped my shoulders and flopped my head down on the table, away from my cup and plate, and let out a deflated sigh. I quickly snapped my hand up, trying to catch Logan off guard in a last attempt to grab the sugar, but he was too fast for me. He snatched the shaker and slid it in the opposite direction before sipping

his own coffee.

"Oh my god, you suck." I growled, letting my arm limply fall back down to my side with my head still on the table.

"Nice try." Logan said simply, flicking the paper one more time.

I thought about just giving up and going without the coffee, but in the back of my mind I knew that wasn't going to work. Not today.

So, finally after a few more seconds, I slapped both my palms onto the table and tossed my head of messy, dark hair back into an upright position.

"FINE." I yelled, giving into Logan's little game. "I'll try."

The smallest of smirks curved onto his lips as he glanced at me from whatever he was reading. He nodded for me to give it a go, keeping a loose grip on the container so I couldn't snatch it from him.

I gave Logan the evilest of grumpy glares before focusing on the sugar that I so desperately needed. I could feel my mind tugging at it, but it wasn't quite strong enough.

"I felt that." Logan spoke up, and I raised my eyebrow at him.

"You did?"

"There was a little wiggle there." He confirmed with a nod, "Keep goin'."

I looked back to the container, thinking about an imaginary lasso looping itself around the middle. When I felt that familier tug, I pictured the lasso slowly reeling the sugar shaker toward me. Sure enough, I had it on my first try for once.

The glass shaker slid across the table, and I held my hand out for it as a guide. It was drawn to my open palm like a magnet, and I stuck my tounge out at Logan as I grasped the glass triumphantly.

"Nice." Logan congratulated me with a chuckle, pouring himself another half cup, "Looks like your powers almost work better when you're tired."

"I think I just got lucky." I countered as I turned the sugar canister upside down over my mug. A stream of white granules flowed into my coffee, seeming never ending.

Logan watched me, raising an eyebrow at just how much sugar I was actually using. Truthfully, I was used to this look... It was the same look I got at coffee shops and restaurants when I'd clear out the sugar caddy, and still need more packets for my iced tea or coffee.

"You trying to give yourself a heart attack?" He asked me when I finally set the shaker down and began stirring my coffee with a clean butter knife.

I shrugged, raising the mug to my lips and taking a long, sweet, creamy sip. Surprisingly, it was still warm.

"I like sugar." Was my simple reply.

"Trust me, I've noticed..." Logan laughed lightly. "Those brownies you like are probably about 95% sugar... What are they called, again...? Galactic brownies?"

"Cosmic brownies." I corrected him before taking another sip.

"Aah, right." Logan nodded and glanced down at his newspaper again.

We sat quietly for a few minutes before a question escaped from my lips.

"What was your nightmare about last night?" My voice sounded so curious, but when I noticed Logan's facial expression darken a little, I began to slightly regret my question.

"It's a little early for the personal question of the day, Anabelle..." He muttered as he flipped the paper once more.

"Does that count as a personal question?" I pondered quizically.

"I don't know..." He grumbled in response, standing up to wash his hands in the small kitchenette sink. "It's complicated."

"How can a dream be complicated...?" I asked, scrunching up my eyebrows in confusion.

"It just is." Logan sighed back as he snatched a green dish towel off the counter to dry his hands, "... It was about my past."

I stared at him as I sipped my coffee quietly. I could see several different emotions flashing in his eyes at once; Confusion, a little sadness... But mostly anger.

"...Your past?" I pressed on, even though I knew I probably shouldn't. "Like... Bad things...?"

"I said its complicated, Ana." Logan snapped, his voice suddenly firm.

It took me by surprise, it was so much different than the light and happy tone he had started the morning with.

I stared at him, my eyes wide and my cheeks flushed. I suddenly felt small under his intense gaze, turning my eyes downward to stare at my plate instead. The muffin and bacon strips were still there, still in the window of being good to eat... But that window was closing quickly.

For a moment it was unbearably quiet, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken. My coffee mug began to vibrate in my hands, my telekinesis responding to the anxiety I was feeling. I tightened my grip around the porcelain to silence the rumbling, right as Logan let out another sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach up and run a hand through his hair.

"Just finish your breakfast, all right?" He mumbled softly as he made his way toward the door and popped it open, "I'll be outside."

I didn't say anything in response as Logan turned and disappeared out the door, letting it click shut behind him. Glancing down at the paper plate in front of me, I pursed my lips.

I didn't want to waste food, but I really had no appetite. So, I grabbed the plate and made my way over to the trash can. After a quick glance at the door over my shoulder, I dropped the plate down face first into the can.

I leaned up against the counter, draining the luke warm coffee out of the mug in short sips.

The camper was glowing in gold and orange tones with the sunlight of the rising sun, just like every morning. The sound of the small A/C unit whirred in the background, almost drowning out the birds chirping from outside.

When my coffee was gone, I washed and dried the cup, levitating it back into the cabinet with my telekinesis. I'd gotten pretty good at that simple task, trying to remember to do it every time I put something away.

Sometimes it was hard to stray away from using my hands, something that was obviously natural to the human body. But, I wanted to train my telekinesis to be natural to my body, too, and practice makes perfect... Just like Logan kept reminding me.

I had to make sure I could work with small objects before I tackled anything extreme... I had no idea what sort of strain I could put on my mind, so I had to be careful.

It was almost 9:00 AM now, and my messy hair and pajamas were starting to bug me. My duffel bag was peeking out at me from around the corner of the couch, so I walked over to it and yanked it out into the middle of the floor.

A nice hot shower was on my mind as I unzipped the bag, trying to forget the aggravated look on Logan's face just a few minutes ago. I shuffled through my few remaining belongings, pulling out a simple gray thong and matching bra, a pair of snuggly fitting black jeans with a rip in the right knee, and a pale pink tank top that read ACDC in black lightening bolt shaped letters across the front.

I made a face at it, knowing I'd never seen or worn that tank top before. I didn't even like ACDC... This must have been one of the tank tops I had blindly thrown into my bag back in Mississippi. I shrugged, not really caring about what the shirt said... As long as it fit well, that's all that mattered to me.

Making sure I had my ziplock baggie full of shower supplies, I shoved my duffle bag backwards next to the couch and made my way to the tiny bathroom. As I started the water, undressed, and stepped inside, I let out a sigh.

Hopefully Logan would be back to normal by the time I got out...

xxx

xxx

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, which was still slightly foggy from my shower. My damp hair was pulled smooth against my head in a neat and tidy pony tail, and my face was decorated with my usual make up; Light foundation, translucent powder, black eyeliner and thick black mascara.

I'd added in a little pale pink eyeshadow on my top lids, which really made my pale blue eyes pop against my skin, sun kissed from the constant sun exposure lately.

After a quick check to make sure the bathroom was tidied up, I opened the door. I was greeted with a cool, refreshing burst of air against my still damp skin.

The camper was quiet, with Logan still no where in sight. I assumed he was still outside, so I slipped on my shoes and socks and made my way to the door.

Sure enough, when I opened it and ventured out into the humid summer air, there was Logan... But instead of sulking in one of the wicker chairs with his back to the camper like I'd expected, he was kneeling down in the grass next to a cooler.

A cigar was pinned between his lips, thick smoke puffing out every so often. The sweet smell of the smoke wafted over to me as the breeze blew, catching the end of my ponytail and flicking it back and forth.

As I slowly made my way across the grass to where he was, I cast my gaze over the vast field to our left. It seemed to stretch on for miles, the horizon flat with a carved path left by years of tread from tires of all shapes and sizes.

The summer heat had dried most of the green from the grass, making it look brittle and parched. Our cluster of trees that we had taken shelter under was the only one for hundreds of feet, hiding the fresh water spring and the entrance to the woods that was probably unknown to most people.

"ACDC, huh?" Logan observed as he glanced up at me from the cooler.

"Oh, um... Yea, I got this for my birthday a few years ago." I lied.

For some reason I felt too embarassed to admit to him that I stole the tank top. So, I decided to change the subject. Craning my neck to see inside the cooler, I could see that Logan had packed a few sandwhiches, what was left of the bag of BBQ chips, a big jug of water and two small bottles of sweet tea neatly ontop of each other.

"What are you doing?" I asked quizically, studying Logan as he stood up and brushed the knees of his jeans off.

My eyes followed his face upward as he stood, reaching a good five or six inches above my head.

He puffed on his cigar once more before pulling it out of his mouth, shifting his weight and turning to look at me.

"Well, I thought maybe we could...go for a walk, or something." He suggested carefully, looking into my confused eyes as if they would tell him what I thought of the idea.

Truthfully, I didn't really know what to say. I just blinked at Logan, then glanced down at the cooler before snatching the end of my ponytail and twiddling it between my fingers.

"That sounds... nice..." I stammered, suddenly feeling bashful and awkward, "But... I thought you were mad about-"

"Listen," Logan cut me off, holding his hand up slightly as if to physically halt my words, "I didn't mean to get so snappy in there. It's just..."

He paused and looked away, visibly searching for the right words in his head before turning his sights back to me, "Those dreams... they're a really sensitive issue for me."

I nodded in understanding as Logan went on.

"It just caught me off guard when you asked about it earlier." Logan took a few drags from his cigar and exhaled the smoke, "I went inside to apologize a little while ago, but you were already in the shower. So, instead I got this stuff togther. I figured we could find a place somewhere around here, have a picnic and talk... So I can explain some things."

For some reason, my stomach dropped as Logan said this. He glanced at me again as I tilted my head to the side, a puzzled expression on my face.

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

"You'll find out when we get to where we're going."

"Well, where are we going...?"

"I don't know yet, Anabelle, relax." Logan laughed lightly, "Your guess is as good as mine. We'll know when we see it."

I let out an exhale at his vagueness, feeling my anxiety build up a little bit.

"Sorry..." I grumbled, nudging at the grass with the toe of my shoe, "Just the fact that you need to 'explain some things' is freaking me out a little..."

Logan had his back to me, drawing closer to the camper and reaching for the doorhandle. When he turned back to look at me, his eyes seemed to stare past me to the scenery behind my back.

"I can tell," He remarked, "The chairs are floating back there."

My eyes widened as I whirled around, gasping at the site before me. Logan was right, both wicker chairs hovered about six feet in the air. They flipped and turned over upside down and bumped into each other, as if gravity had been switched off.

They crashed to the ground a few seconds after I looked at them, hitting the grass with a sturdy 'thud'.

"Dammit." I cursed to myself, "Why does that have to happen..."

By now, Logan had gone inside and come back out already. He was holding a green backpack in one hand, and a folded plaid blanket in the other.

"Don't be freaked out, it's nothing bad. I promise." Logan assured me, the conversation never breaking, "I just figured if you're gonna be hanging with me, you should know my story... I'm just warning you, though, it's a long one."

He unzipped the backpack and placed the blanket inside, along with a flashlight and first aide kit, just in case of an emergency.

"Well... okay." I finally agreed.

I guess that was pretty harmless. But what could he possibly have to explain to me...?

xxx

xxx

"Watch out, it's slippery here. Grab my hand, I'll pull you up."

Logan and I had been hiking for about thirty five minutes now, having turned off the beaten path in the woods about half way through.

This side of the path was much less worn, and a lot more uneven. I found myself tripping over rocks and tree roots quite a bit, and we had to do a lot of climbing and detouring around trees and boulders, like we were at that particular moment.

Logan had easily scaled up a pile of fallen tree trunks and large boulders that led to higher ground, but the fuzzy green moss that covered them gave my flat converse sneakers nothing to grip.

I stared up at Logan's outstretched hand as he kneeled on the ledge of ground above me, waiting to pull me up.

I knew I'd have to jump a bit and reach up to be able to grab ahold of him, so I took a step or two backwards.

"You sure you can pull me up?" I asked skeptically, observing all the sharp objects I could potentially land on if I lost my grip and fell.

"Ana, c'mon." He said with a roll of his eyes, "You're a twig."

I gasped at him, letting my mouth hang open slightly. "I am not!"

"Easy, I didn't mean that in a bad way!" He defended as I hopped up and grasped his leathery hand, "Jesus, you'd think I said those pants made you 'look fat'."

Logan quickly yanked me up onto the ledge with a small grunt, and my shoes touched the fresh dirt.

"You women just can't make up your minds." He continued to grumble.

I grinned and followed behind him as he continued to walk, and just by the strain on my abs and thighs, I knew we were going uphill. I heard birds chipring in the branches above, and peered upward to see a bunch of Yellowhammers... I couldn't remember the fancy name for them that Logan had told me.

"Watch out, there's a little drop right there." Logan warned me over his shoulder, just in time for me to glance downward and notice an uneven spot in the dirt.

I stepped down, and we continued forward. Logan and I pressed on through the brush, finally emerging on the other side.

I gasped at what we saw before us. We had traveled to the edge of a rocky cliff, standing right inside a nook most likely carved out of the stone by years of wind and rain.

The platform was overlooking a few miles of bright green tree tops, and I could see that beautiful lake in the distance, sparkling in the summer sun.

"Well, I think we're here." Logan breathed as he stepped forward and took in the view. He turned and grinned at me. "You think so?"

"Yea.." I agreed as I walked over to join him, "It's amazing!"

Before I knew it, Logan had the plaid blanket laid out across the ground, and the cooler sitting ontop of it with the lid popped open.

"Sweet tea, please." I said as Logan shuffled through the contents of the cooler. He nodded and snagged one of fhe bottles full of the rich colored liquid, then tossed it to me.

I caught the bottle gracefully in both hands, eagerly twisting the cap off and gulping the sweet, cold tea.

"So good." I sighed as I sat down on the blanket next to Logan.

He passed me a sandwhich and set the quarter of the way full bag of chips between us. We started eating, and Logan started talking.

"Anabelle..." He spoke up, his voice sounding hesitant, "Do you remember back at Denny's when you asked me where I was from... and I said 'I think I'm from Canada.'?"

I nodded my head, chewing slowly and taking a sip of tea. Logan continued talking. Where was he going with this...

"And then you asked me yesterday how old I was... And I said 'somewhere around 42.'?"

"...Yea..."

"Well... the truth is, I don't really know those things about myself."

I cocked my head to the side, feeling my eyes narrow in confusion.

"But..."

My voice trailed off as he went into further detail.

"Honestly, Anabelle..." Logan paused to look up at me, then peered out over the tree tops, "I don't even know if Logan's my real name. I just woke up one day, with these dogtags." He reached up and grasped the silver around his neck, the tags jingling against each other. "One side says 'Logan'... the other side says 'Wolverine'."

By now, I had set my half eaten sandwhich down, trying to soak in this strange information. So I finally got my answer about the dogtags. But what the hell was Logan talking about...?

"Wait, hold on," I said, "What do you mean you just... woke up? Where were you before that?"

Logan shook his head, staring distantly out over the ledge of the overhang.

"No clue." He replied, "That's why I said it's complicated... And that's where the dreams come in."

He suddenly extended his claws, flipping his hands back and forth to examine the sharp metal blades.

"In the dreams, I'm under water... But I can breathe, and I'm trapped inside some kind of glass case... or a cage... And I can see out. I can see two men, but I can't focus on them for long before it feels like... like..."

I stared at him, hanging on his every word as I waited for him to finish his thought.

"Like what...?" I asked meekly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Like... drills digging into my skin, destroying my skeleton and filling my body with something boiling hot, like lava." Logan took a deep breath, seeming to deal with openly sharing this experience. "But whatever it is hardens... and in the dream, I feel rage... pure rage, every time. I bust out of whatever I'm trapped in, and... these are there." He flashed his claws, lowering them to rest in his lap, "So, I'm sure whatever I was injected with was some kind of metal."

"...Then what...?" I asked him, feeling like a child listening to a ghost story at summer camp.

"Then, I'm running down a dark tunnel, and at the end there's a bright light..." Logan explained in a sigh, "But every time I get to it, I wake up. Like last night."

I let out a tense exhale as I absorbed Logan's story, but he wasn't done yet.

"So I know I wasn't born with these claws... This metal skeleton... someone gave them to me." Logan growled, sounding a little angry now, "But that's all I know. I don't even know if I agreed to it... But everything before that, I remember nothing about."

"Wow..." I breathed in disbelief, "Nothing? Not even your family?"

Logan shook his head, "Never knew anyone related to me. I've pretty much always been alone, until you came around."

I nodded, my cheeks warming in a blush for some reason. I knew what it felt like to be alone all the time... Even with family around.

"But something that weirds me out sometimes..." Logan mumbled, "Is the random flashbacks... They're sort of like movie clips. Sometimes, I'll remember things from way back, as if I was there... Like fighting in wars, a few different ones, but the guns look so old... Like something you'd find in an antique shop." He paused to stare over at me, his eyes foggy and mysterious, "Or horses and buggies... Walking down hallways lit by candle light... And it's so real, that a lot of times I'm cinvinced that they're memories sneaking through the fog."

My face had to look completely dumbfounded at that point. I was totally turned upside down, trying to wrap my mind around this whole concept, or at least bend it a little.

"Antique guns, horses and buggies..." I repeated what he'd said in a mumble, "And you said more than one war...?"

Logan nodded, his serious expression never wavering as he looked me in the eyes.

"B-but...that's not possible, Logan." I stammered, crunching the numbers in my head, "For you to have actually done all those things, you would have had to been born somewhere around, like, 1840... Making you..."

"Over 100 years old." Logan finished my sentence, and I stared at him as a chill ran up my spine. "Trust me, I don't know how that would be possible... But then this healing shit happens... And makes me think that maybe it is possible."

Silence fell over us for a few seconds, and my mind scrambled up over what Logan had told me.

"I have to say, this definately wasn't what I was expecting when you told me you needed to 'explain some things'..." I confessed, popping a chip into my mouth.

I'd been so sucked into Logan's story that I had put lunch on hold, and so had he. He jumped right back in, biting into his sandwhich.

"What were you expecting?" Logan asked me between chews with a curious glance.

"I don't know," I replied as I shrugged my shoulders and picked the crust off what remained of my sandwhich, "I was thinking more along the lines of something like you were a crazy ax murderer, running from the law."

"What?!" Logan gasped before taking a swig of sweet tea, "All this time I've been giving off a crazy ax murderer vibe?"

The look on his face made me laugh, and I noticed Logan smirk.

"No, of course not." I assured him between giggles, "But that was really unexpected... I don't care how old you are, though. I still think you're pretty cool."

This time, Logan full on smiled at me.

"Thanks, Ana." He said sincerely, "I guess you're all right... for a girl."

I playfully kicked Logan's boot at his mock insult, and he laughed. I suddenly felt some sort of weight lifted from my soul, and I began to feel a closer bond with Logan. I couldn't believe he had been so open about his past with me.

But I also couldn't help but wonder what I would say when I decided to share my story with him...

xxx

xxx

Logan and I spent almost three hours in that nook of stone, just relaxing and enjoying the view.

But when dark clouds began to roll in along with the strong scent of rain, we decided to pick up and head back to camp. I helped Logan fold the blanket back up, and he stuffed it back inside his backpack.

"Let's go." He said, clutching the cooler and leading the way back through the brush.

We hurried along as quickly as we could, but the thunder rolled loudly above us, a signal that we were probably going to get wet.

"I don't think we're gonna beat it." I announced as I felt cold rain drops start to sprinkle my exposed shoulders.

"You're probably right." Logan grumbled from in front of me, squinting up at the sky, "Let's just keep moving. This way, it'll be faster."

He ducked through a random cluster of bushes to his left, holding the leafy branches aside so I could follow. I raised a skeptical eyebrow at Logan as I passed through.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" I asked, "We can get back to camp this way?"

"Yes." He confirmed as we stepped over a hollowed out stump, "I'm an outdoorsmen. Trust me, I know where I'm going."

With that being said, I shrugged and took Logan's word for it. Sure enough, after another five minutes of walking, the rain was pouring down on us, and I was soaked to the bone.

"Wait!" I spoke up suddenly, my voice hushed. I could hear something in the bushes, moving toward us. It sounded like rustling and... growling. "Logan, wait...! What is that...?"

We halted our steps, and Logan tuned in his hearing. I watched his eyes, knowing for sure I wasn't hearing things when I noticed their intensity.

The sounds were getting louder, drawing nearer and closing in on us from all sides.

"Get behind me, Ana." Logan growled, his eyes scanning the trees.

I complied, concealing myself behind Logan's tall, muscular frame. My heart was racing as my eyes darted all around, searching for the threat.

Suddenly, one by one, a pack of 8 snarling coyotes emerged from the bushes, surrounding us. They were the beefiest coyotes I had ever seen, and they weren't happy. Their snouts were scrunched up, revealing their vicious yellow teeth and foaming gums.

Their beady eyes were intense and screamed that these animals wanted to tear us apart. The deep, menacing growls rumbling from their throats was pretty clear that they weren't going to let us get away in one piece.

"We must be too close to their den..." Logan mumbled to me, keeping a sharp eye on each canine, "Stay still... they might go away if we don't pose a threat to them."

I was terrified, holding my breath as I stared at these savage beasts. They looked so eerie, their gray fur soaked and matted from the rain, clinging to their bodies in eerie, skeletal shapes.

When the coyotes began taking steps closer to us, closing in on their pray, Logan quickly drew his claws. He backed up a bit, pressing his body closer to mine.

"Scratch that." I heard him growl, "Looks like they're gonna- FUCK!"

I screamed as one of the coyotes suddenly jumped out at Logan's leg, latching onto his shin. With one swift kick, he knocked it loose and tossed it back into the trees. Another one leapt up in its place, sinking its teeth into Logan's forearm.

He barely made any noises of pain as he slammed the coyote's body into a tree trunk, snapping its neck and killing it instantly.

"Logan!" I shrieked as one of the rabid animals charged me, jumping up and snapping at my throat.

Before its sharp fangs could puncture my skin, I endured the gruesome sight of Logan's claws spearing the animal through its neck. Blood splattered everywhere as the coyote's body fell limp and Logan slung it from his claws.

It wasn't near over yet, though. There were still five more, and Logan was only able to kill two more before another jumped for his throat, knocking him to the ground.

This gave the last coyote the perfect chance to single me out. My heart dropped to the floor as it charged in my direction, feeling like slow motion.

My legs sprang back into action just in time to turn and race to my right. I had tore through the trees, hearing the coyote's vicious snarls pulsating behind me. The rain began to fall heavier, pelting my body as I ran.

Finally, I burst through a cluster of brush, only to be shocked with the sight of another rocky cliff.

My feet stumbled to a stop, staring over the edge of the rocks. There was a six foot drop into a deep, rushing current of cloudy water below, that led to a waterfall about thirty yards down stream. There was no way anyone could swim across that.

"Shit..." I panted, realizing I was cornered.

I whirled around as I heard the coyote emerge from the bushes behind me. I stared the animal in the eyes as it walked toward me, matching every step forward it took with a step backward.

I began to panic when my shoe grazed the edge of the cliff, with the coyote still approaching.

"ANABELLE!" Logan's voice roared through the trees, sounding like it was getting closer, "ANABELLE!"

Suddenly, he burst through the bushes behind the coyote, his chest rapidly rising and falling, tense anger twisting up his face and constricting his muscles.

His claws were drawn, and his clothes were covered in blood.

But right as we locked eyes, the malicious animal charged me, leaping up towards my body at full force. I felt its teeth sink into my side as I instinctively turned to protect myself, and I let a scream.

It was a scream of a mixture of fear and pain as the weight of the coyote knocked me off the edge off the cliff, sending me free falling toward the rushing water below.

"NO!" Logan's exhasperated shout rang through my ears, soon silenced by the crashing sound of water as I plunged under the surface.

Instantly I could feel the power of the current as it ripped me under, tossing and tumbling me about like a rag doll.

Somehow, I managed to flip upright and bob to the surface, taking in a huge gasping breath. The heavy rain beat into the water, blending with the roaring sound of the current and making me feel even more disoriented.

"ANABELLE!" I somehow heard Logan's shouts to my left.

I turned my body in the water as it pulled me, yelping loudly at a sharp pain in my side... That's when I remembered the coyote bite. My legs locked up at the sudden jolt, allowing the water to easily suck me under again.

I quickly realized I couldn't let that happen. I clenched my jaw and pushed through the pain, fighting to the surface one more time. Rain drops sprinkled my face as I emerged, feeling warmer than the creek I was submerged in.

"ANA, YOU HAVE TO KEEP YOUR HEAD ABOVE WATER!"

I finally caught sight of Logan, racing the current down the rocky bank, keeping his eyes on me. I glanced forward, feeling like I could puke as I realized I was being drawn toward one point: the waterfall.

"GRAB ONTO SOMETHING!" Logan screamed out over the rain, trying to beat me to the ledge of the waterfall.

So far, we were neck and neck. I searched the water around me for something to latch onto, but I could see nothing.

"THERE'S..." I called out, struggling to stay afloat. Water filled my mouth, and I spit it out to finish my sentence, "NOTHING TO GRAB!"

I was rapidly approaching the drop, and I honestly wasn't expect to live through it.

"LOGAN!" I wailed out helplessly as I felt the water start to suck out from underneath my body, taking me with it.

Holy shit, that was a steep drop...

Suddenly, a hand grasped my wrist, jolting me to a temporary stop. I lifted my head up to see Logan, a intense look of determimation in his eyes.

But the current was just too strong, and combined with my weight and the rain beating down... He just couldn't keep his grip.

My hand slipped from his, and my body plumeted downward with the roaring, rushing water.

Logan cried out my name, but the echoe of his voice cut out quickly as I plunged into darkness.

"ANABELLE!"

xxxTBCxxx


	11. Chapter Ten

AN:: toritee0749 here! chapter 10, finally! a fitting number for me to start out by saying:

Thank you sooo much, everyone, for the reads, reviews & support on this story, and also my two others as well. All of your feedback is part of what gives me inspiration to keep updating! I honestly started this story not knowing if it was really going to take off, or if anyone would like it... I never imagined it would get the attention that it is! you're all amazing, and your reviews always make my day (:

So here's chapter 10, after that awful cliffhanger in chapter 9. I know, I'm sorry, I'm an evil writer :}D

That's an evil smiley with a mustache, btw.

HERE WE GO!

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*Ana...*

...

*Ana...*

...

*Ana...*

...

*Wake up...*

...

My eyelids felt heavy and struggled to flutter open, as if they'd been glued shut.

*Ana... Wake up...*

Someone was talking to me.

"Mmm..." I heard myself groan, all of my limbs feeling as if they weighed a thousand pounds. Still, my eyes didn't open. "Logan...?"

Wait, no... that wasn't Logan... But the voice sounded so familier and strange... Even in a whisper, this voice was clearer than the loud sound of rushing water that surrounded me.

*Ana...*

My eyes suddenly snapped open, but quickly slammed shut again, unable to deal with the stress of blinking. I had to rely on my other senses, for the time being.

Sounds of water rushing around me... Shallow water beneath my fingertips as I tried to wiggle them... And that voice...

It was the voice that had spoken to me when I'd first met Logan, the one that he said he had heard, too... The one that brought him to me.

I'd forgotten all about it... And now it was back.

Suddenly, all my senses came rushing back to me all at once. I was soaking wet, shivering from the cool, damp air around me, and the chilly puddle I was laying in.

As I kept wiggling my fingers, I could make out the texture of sandy mud that cushioned my body. My muscles ached, my head was pounding and I could taste blood in my mouth.

I gingerly grazed my tounge along my bottom lip, flinching when it brushed against a tender spot that burned and tasted like iron... It was definately busted. What the hell had happened to me...?

Finally, I was able to force my eyes open. At first everything was dark and blurry, but after a few blinks I managed to clear it up. I still felt pretty disoriented, but the source of the loud rushing sound roaring from all around me, the giant waterfall, jogged my memory.

The massive stream of water cascaded through an opening in the earth about twenty feet above me, as if it were falling from the sky. It plunged into a dark pool below, and my body was pushed off to the side, resting in the most shallow part of it.

I could feel the cool mist spraying from the edge of the free falling water, sprinkling my already damp skin and sending racks of shivers through my ribcage.

As I layed there, I remembered Logan and I hiking through the woods in the rain... The fight with the coyotes... and falling over the edge of that rocky cliff into the raging current below.

I remembered the way Logan's eyes had looked just before I had slipped out of his grasp. Full of determination as he snatched my frail wrist from the murky water in the pouring rain.

And fear, as the powerful current ripped me from his grip and took me plumeting down with it, into the earth.

As I strained to lift my head and look upward at the mossy opening, I wondered how I could have possibly survived that drop, and I was sure Logan had thought the same thing.

I must have been out for a while, because around the edges of the gap in the earth's crust, I could see a pinkish-orange glow creeping into the darkness. I didn't know if it was dawn or dusk, but either way that meant it had been hours... It was only around 2:00 in the afternoon when Logan and I left our picnic site.

My arms wobbled beneath my body, attempting to push my weight up from the water.

"Aah...!" A gasped at a sudden, sharp pain in my right side.

I collapsed to my left, splashing slightly in the shallow part of the natural pool. My hand snapped to where the pain was radiating from, and I could feel four deep punctures in my skin; two in front and two in back.

My breaths were shallow and uneven as I warily glanced downward. I lifted my ripped, blood stained tank top, noticing the red liquid seeping from the swollen, bruising wounds and trailing away like thin red snakes into the clear water.

I cringed, the pain feeling more intense the longer I looked at the wound. So, I lowered the hem of my tank top with a trembling hand and closed my eyes to compose myself.

"Damn coyote..." I moaned in pain as I remembered the animal sinking its teeth into me, "Bastard..."

I rolled over on my back, taking a few more seconds before I tried to sit up again. The water was at just the right level to engulf my ears and muffle my hearing, while stearing clear of my eyes.

I tried to ignore the throbbing, stinging pain of the bite mark as the water rippled from the crashing stream and lapped over it. As I stared up at the opening above where there waterfall made it's entrance, I felt some sort of calmness wash over me. The continuous sound of the rushing water underneath the glassy surface was beginning to sound like white noise.

It lulled my eyelids into a heavy state, making it hard not to drift back into unconciousness. Just then, an uncomfortable shiver ran up my spine and reminded me where I was. I wasn't in a safe place to sleep.

I was 20 feet underground, and judging by the rapidly fading light from above, the sun was setting. Soon I would be in total darkness, soaking wet in the chilly Alabama night. The thought terrified me, but still... I was so tired.

My eyes slowly sank to a close...

*Ana...!*

The voice snapped suddenly, sounding much more urgent than before. It consumed my mind, bouncing off the inner walls of my skull and seeming to echoe out through my ears and into the water.

It startled me so much that my body vaulted into a sitting position, way too fast. Instantly, I was hit with severe vertigo. My eyes drifted about as my brain tried to decide which way was up, all in about a nanosecond. Combined with the searing, tearing pain of the wound in my side, my body wretched and heaved, vomiting mostly water onto the muddy sand next to me.

When the convultions were done, I took a few deep breaths. I quickly swished my mouth out with a handful of water, then forced myself to my wobbly feet.

I held my side, staring all around me. My eyes had adjusted to my dim surroundings just about as much as they were going to, and it was still pretty hard to see. The chill of the air was cutting into me now that I wasn't halfway submerged under water.

My eyes darted in every direction, but a sinking feeling pulled at my heart as I only saw the same things: Mud, rocks, water, and darkness. I didn't know where to go or what to do.

What if I tried to find my way out of here and just ended up getting myself stuck somewhere else? Somewhere with even less light and oxygen, deeper underground?

What if there wasn't even anywhere to go from here... I couldn't see anything, how was I supposed to know if this wasn't just a hollow pit in the earth, waiting to consume me?

Fear and panic started to set in. My heart raced and it felt like the walls were caving in around me. I stared up at the huge gaping hole allowing the water to come through. It was so high up...

"HELLO!?" I screamed as loud as I could, wincing at my stinging busted lip, but the roaring waterfall muted my cries. "HELLO!"

No matter how loud I tried to raise the octives in my voice, nature still trumped me. I still had one more scream left in me, and I let it out, even though I knew it wouldn't do me any good.

"LOGAN!"

It was strange sensation... I could feel the strain on my vocal chords as I screamed, I knew what words I was forming on my lips... But I could barely hear myself. How could I expect someone on the outside to hear me?

Tears brimmed my eyes, trickling over the edges and streaming down my cheeks. I didn't know how I was going to get out of this...

*Don't be afraid...*

My tearful blue eyes widened. There it was, that voice. I looked around, thinking I would see a man standing somewhere around me, but I already knew that wasn't the case.

"Who's there...?" I peeped out, my voice sounding so vulnerable and weak.

I didn't know if this voice could hear me speak, but it was worth a try.

*You will survive...*

I was dumbfounded, incredibly confused... But somehow, slightly calmed. I felt compelled to scan my surroundings again, taking in every tiny detail...

*There...* The voice whispered inside my head, and instantly I froze.

As I focused my eyes, I could see a cluster of rocks jutting out from the muddy earth and scaling upward.

From where I was standing, about thirty feet away, it looked like I could climb them... That is, if I had the energy, and if the crippling pain from this coyote bite didn't slow me down too much.

But the voice was telling me to go there... In any other lifetime, I might think I was crazy, listening to a voice inside my head... A man's voice with a British accent, none the less. In a world filled with Mutants, though, anything is possible.

I mean, I could move things with my mind... sort of, and my only friend in the world was a man with a metal skeleton and razor sharp claws between his knuckles. That isn't exactly your normal, everyday life.

I tried not to think of Logan... Images of his rugged face and mysterious smirk flashed through my mind, echoeing sounds of his voice floated through my eardrums, and I could almost feel the leathery, masculine skin of his hands against mine...

Before I knew it, my cheeks were warming up. I had to quit thinking of Logan that way... There was nothing between us, we were just friends. I mean we hadn't even known each other for a month, yet.

But the thought of Logan leaving me behind, assuming the drop from the waterfall had taken my life, scared me to my core. I had become so accustomed to him in the short time I had been traveling with him, and the thought of not being with him, never seeing him again... It wrenched my heart.

Finally I hobbled my way to the wall of rocks, bracing myself against them with one hand and looking upward. I was right, I could scale them. It looked like the rocks led up to a higher plateau, maybe to a series of natural tunnels... The only way to know would be to climb.

I took a few deep breaths, ignoring the pain in my side, then reached up to the rocks with both hands. I grasped onto the stoney wall, getting a good grip, and hoisted my weight upward.

Then, within a split second, it felt like a hot knife was being jammed into my side. I let out a hoarse yelp, instantly dropping from the wall and gripping my bruised, punctured side.

"F-...Fuck..." I hissed through clenched teeth.

I squeezed my eyes shut and hung my head as the burning sensation passed, fading into a throbbing ache. I guess the strain of my body weight pulling at the injured muscle tissue was too much.

*Ana...Don't give up...* There it was again... How did it know my name? *You will survive...*

My eyes seemed to open on their own, staring back up at the wall of rocks. Whoever it was was right... I could do this, I had to do this... to survive.

So, I placed my hands back up onto the rocks, preparing myself for what I had to do next. A loud, strangled cry of pain ripped from my throat as I yanked my weight from the ground, trailing upward inch by inch.

After the first three pulls, the pain began to numb, making it easier to press on. Soon, I could see the top of the rocks, getting smaller as they thinned into a dark, cavernous opening.

When I reached the last rock that was big enough for me to grab onto, I was stuck. Standing in my way of the small cave was a long, steep, muddy slope that had been hidden from below.

My body trembled as I held myself up, dealing with a numb, throbbing sensation that was spreading up through my back and torso. I scanned the dirt... There had to be something I could use to pull myself inside...

Tree roots! A nice cluster of them, poking out from right underneath the cavernous gap. But there was no way I could reach them... If I jumped for them, I'd just end up sliding all the way back down, and probably wind up with a broken arm or leg.

I definately couldn't afford that... But my grip was giving out, so I had to figure something out fast.

The only thing I had left to rely on was my telekinesis. If I could somehow muster up the strength, I could bring the roots right to my hands without moving a muscle.

But I was just so tired... All my energy had been drained, and the pain radiating from my side was becoming too much to ignore. There was no way I would be able to focus...

But suddenly, I heard a voice in my head. But it wasn't the mysterious whisper... It was something Logan had told me that morning at breakfast.

"You're not always gonna feel your best when you have to use it." His echoeing voice reminded me. "So, go on. It's just a sugar shaker."

My breaths were coming in short bursts as I stared at my goal; The cavern. Somehow, I managed to rip my left hand away from the rocks and outstretch my arm toward the roots, holding my body up with my right hand.

"They're just... tree roots..." I grunted to myself, honing in on the spiney vines.

I felt the pressure build inside of my head as I mentally played tug of war with the roots. The dirt around them crumbled away, falling down the slope and landing in my eyes. I gasped and clenched my eyes shut, ducking my head to avoid any more falling debris.

Of course, with my luck, this caused me to loose my telekinetic hold on the roots, as well as my unsteady grip on the rock. My body began to slide downward, my injured side scraping against the rough surface. I gritted my teeth in pain, finally halting myself about two feet down.

My lungs felt constricted, even my heavy panting wasn't enough to catch my breath completely. Staring up at the top of the rocks where I had just been, the distance I had fallen seemed miles long... But even though my muscles were strained to their maximum and I had almost nothing left to give, I had to make my way back to the top.

"C'mon..." I urged myself quietly, "Almost there..."

I pulled myself up two or three rocks, paused to take a break, then bit the bullet and yanked myself up the rest of the way. I once again set my eyes on on the roots, conjuring up my mental energy.

I had to get it right this time, my body was shaking and screaming in pain, desperately signaling to me that this was my last chance.

And I was going to get it right, or die trying.

I tried a different strategy this time, clinging to the rocks with both hands. I stared intently at the roots sticking out from the earth. I had managed to pull them loose a bit on my first try, but they still weren't close enough for me to reach.

I imagined the roots acting as whips, snapping out of the mud and flinging into my hands. The pressure in my head felt just right, I knew I had a steady grip on it... I just needed to pull a little harder...

Suddenly, there was a series of snaps, and I instinctively reached my hand outwards. I felt the dirt rain down over me, sticking to my water logged hair and my damp face.

But more importantly, the rough exterior of the tree roots had finally met the soft skin of my palms. In that moment, it was the best feeling in the world.

After several deep breaths, I pushed myself to keep climbing. The tree roots were sturdy and held my weight as I pulled myself up. My feet slipped in the mud, but I somehow I managed to get myself to the top.

I tucked myself safely inside the small cave, dropping the vines and sitting with my back pressed against the clammy wall. I knew I had to go on, to keep my body moving.

But maybe it wouldn't hurt to close my eyes, just for a second...

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Big, beautiful trees and landscaping rushed by... Was I looking through glass? Maybe a car window...

Everything was basked in a yellow glow of sunlight, and suddenly... all movement stopped. I was standing in a field... No, a cobblestone driveway, in front of a huge, castle-like building. There was a set of big, oak double doors straight in front of me, and they slowly opened.

A breeze passed through, rustling the leaves of the trees all around me, as if that was the only sound that existed. The doors seemed to be creaking open in slow motion, so my view tilted upward at the rest of the building.

Tall and magnificent, looking as if it were built in another time period...

When I looked back down at the doors, I could see wheels... A wheelchair. But I still couldn't see who occupied it, only their navy blue slacks and shiney black shoes... The rest of them was hidden in the shadows...

"Anabelle."

A voice spoke from behind me, a voice I recognized and made my heart swell. My feet whirled me around, and I saw Logan.

I was suddenly somewhere totally different, but I didn't quite know what was different about it. I couldn't seem to remember where I was before I turned around...

Logan was maybe ten yards away, leaning against an old wooden fence in the middle of an open field of bright yellow Daffodils.

There was a giant Willow tree next to him, swaying in the calm breeze and casting shade down upon Logan.

Behind him, the field stretched for miles, meeting the crystal blue sky at its horizon. Giant clouds drifted by, looking like puffs of white cotton candy.

I couldn't fight my growing smile as I walked through the field, the soft petals of the Daffodils brushing against my legs.

Logan grinned right back at me as I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his muscular chest. For some reason, I didn't feel shy or bashful at all... Just at peace.

The crisp, masculine scent of his cologne overwhelmed me, mixed with a tinge of the sweet odor of cigar smoke. He wrapped his arms around me in a snug embrace, and my eyes closed at the comfortable, safe feeling.

After a few short seconds, I felt a pair of strong but gentle hands wrap around my shoulders. Logan held me out at arm's length, gazing down at me.

A small ray of sunshine caught the shimmer in his hazel eyes, making my knees feel like jello.

"Where ya been?" He asked me softly in his husky voice, his facial expression falling concerned.

"What do you mean...?" My voice responded, sounding strange to me for some reason.

"I've been looking for you." Logan said to me, his voice growing serious, "Been worried sick... Where were you?"

For some reason, I couldn't move my mouth to speak. My voice was frozen in my throat... No matter how badly I wanted to speak, to cry, to scream... I just couldn't. It was as if I had completely forgotten how, my brain wiped clean of the simple function of speaking.

"Ana?" Logan's voice called out, but I couldn't see him anymore. "Ana?"

It was dark again. The beautiful field of Daffodils, Logan, the Willow tree, the fence... It was all gone, there was only darkness. But I could still hear Logan's voice somewhere, calling my name.

"Ana? Ana? Ana..."

His voice suddenly sounded strange, not like him at all... fading into a whisper...

*Ana...*

*Ana...*

*Wake up...*

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My eyes snapped open, my body tense and shivering. For a moment I felt dazed and disorientated, trying to figure out where I was, but it didn't take me long to remember.

Letting out a gloomy sigh, I pressed my palms into my eyes.

"How the hell do I get out of here...?" I whimpered to myself in the darkness, feeling tears sting my eyes.

No. No, I wasn't going to cry. Crying wasn't going to get me anywhere. I was going to move, stand, crawl... Whatever I had to.

I was going to survive.

When I raised my arms upward, my palms hit the top of the cavern before my elbows could fully extend. It was clear I couldn't stand up, so I'd have to crawl... And I did.

I crawled on my hands and knees through the dark cave, unaware of where I was going, but I just had a gut feeling. I crawled for what seemed like forever, bearing the burning pain of the bite mark in my side, and yanking my pant legs free of rocks and scraggly roots that snagged them.

Finally, I hit a dead end. It was a wall of solid rock... My heart sank as I pressed my palms against it.

*Here...* The voice urged me inside of my head.

"No..." I whimpered softly as I pressed against the rock. It didn't budge. "No, not here..."

I could feel anger and despair welling up inside me as I clenched my hands into fists. This had been my only hope, and it was a dead end.

"No!" I mustered up the strength to scream, "It's... It's solid... ROCK!"

I cried out as I pounded the stone barrier with my fists, as if I could burst through. That only used up what was left of my physical energy, throwing my body down in the mud.

My ribs heaved in sobs. I couldn't get up again, I just couldn't do it. My battery was dead, there was nothing else for me to run on.

*Ana...*

God damn that voice. Where the hell was it coming from?

*Get up...*

"I can't..." I whimpered breathlessly into the dirt, knowing the voice couldn't hear me, "I can't..."

*Ana... Get up... Get up...!*

The whisper was becoming more urgent now, driving a piercing pain into my brain. I reached up and gripped my head, my legs squirming about. The pain was incredible, an intense pressure so great, I was sure my head would explode into bits.

*Ana... You will survive...* The whisper persisted, so loud, bearing over the searing pain, *Don't give up...*

I let out a shrill scream, unable to take the pain anymore. Tears were streaming from my eyes as they shot open, a strange blue light glowing around my hands... I stared at them for just a second, I had never seen this happen before...

But there was another powerful surge of crushing pressure inside my head, and I could hear my voice grow hoarse as another scream of agony erupted from my throat.

*Don't let it control you...*

Suddenly, there was a brief moment of calm. Within three seconds, my sights had been drawn to the wall of stone in front of me.

I don't know why, but something told me to press my palms flat against it once more... When the jolt of pain shot through my mind again, I squeezed my eyes shut and felt a powerful burst emit from my palms, shattering like rock like a stick of dynamite.

Then... fresh air, that smelled damp with rain. I could hear crickets. When I opened my eyes again... Moonlight was peeking through, urging me to crawl out through the newly open gap to safety.

I was flabbergasted, or maybe just exhausted as I stared into the outside world. It felt like I had been deprived of the fresh air and trees for weeks, when really it had only been hours.

I waited for a second, breathing heavily. I listened for the whispering voice that had led me out, but it had disappeared...

Gathering my strength, I crawled toward the opening, pulling myself out. I cringed at the numb sting of the coyote bite.

My body flopped into the dewy grass as I finally yanked myself from the underground cave. But I wasn't out of the woods yet... No punn intended. I still had to find Logan, or the truck, but I had no idea where I was, or if either of them were still here at all...

The forest was dark and thick, minus the light of the moon and the stars... And I didn't know if I had any strength left in me to walk. A sudden breeze ripped through, catching my damp, muddy clothes and freezing me to death.

I stared out into the dark trees, staggering to my feet and gripping my side. I leaned my back against the rough bark of a tree trunk, gathering everything I had... physically and mentally... before setting off into the night.

I tried to stay optimistic, but needless to say it was a little difficult...

All this struggling would be for nothing if Logan had already moved on...

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To be continued...


	12. Chapter Eleven

The night was calm, quiet and peaceful. The trees swayed in the breeze, sprinkling the earth with droplets of rain water that still clung to the leaves.

Above, the stars were sparkling like sequins against a black backdrop, surrounding a big, shiney white pearl; The moon. Pale beams of moonlight cascaded down to the ground, illuminating everything in a soft, glowing aura.

Crickets chirpped in a sleepy pattern all throughout the bushes, and small critters could be heard rustling around on the forest floor, foraging for food.

It might have been one of those perfect nights you hear about in country songs, if I hadn't been exhausted, freezing, and lost, aimlessly wandering around in my damp clothes.

My teeth chattered as I wrapped my arms around myself in a useless attempt to stay warm... I hated Alabama's bi-polar summer weather; Blazing hot during the day, and downright frigid at night.

As my stiff, numb legs struggled to keep plunking along, my mind began to tease me with thoughts of fire, and my cozy spot on the couch in the camper... Which I hoped still existed for me.

Pain radiated through every part of my body, from my head to my toes, and every inch in between. The sore, hot ache of the coyote bite tore at my nerves and caused a grimace with every step. With my luck, I probably had rabies...

"Aah..!" A strained gasp escaped my lips as a jolt shot through my brain, as if traveling from temple to temple in just a nanosecond.

I doubled back and leaned against a sturdy tree, my hands shooting to either side of my head as the throbbing, electric pain grew more intense. I felt a little scared as a rather large rock a few feet away from me began to quiver and rumble, responding to the immense, crushing pressure I could feel inside my mind.

I groaned in pain, catching a glimpse of that strange, unnatural electric blue glow before my eyes squeezed shut... It surrounded each of my hands, and was beginning to pulsate around the boulder that my telekinesis seemed to be targeting on its own.

This had been happening periodically ever since I had somehow busted through that thick wall of stone, making my escape from the underground cavern. Something inside my head was different, I could feel it... As if some sort of locked door had been unlocked and jarred open deep within my mind.

More telekinetic energy felt present in my body than ever before, tingling from my brain out into my fingertips, just begging to be tapped... But I didn't know how to get it under control... How to make it mine... And it terrified me. It made things like this happen, things I couldn't control...

My telekinesis had saved my life, but my problem was getting worse... It was progressing without me.

But now, as I stood with my back pinned to the tree bark, waiting for my mind to silence and loose its grip on the giant boulder, unsteadily waving about in the air, I knew my body was too exhausted to figure out a solution.

I could only pray that the rock didnt crush me when my mind decided to release it.

I endured a few seconds of the mind crushing pain before it abruptly halted, and the boulder was sent freefalling though the air, crashing to the forest floor.

My hands lowered from my head and my breaths came out in short bursts. My vision faded in and out, becoming fuzzy and splotchy.

I was done, so close to giving in and letting my body lose conciousness. Allowing the easy, peaceful death of freezing take the pain away from me...

Suddenly, Logan's face flashed into my mind. It was so vivid, it startled me back into alert-mode. There was no way he would leave me behind after just one night... He had to be out here looking for me. He had to...

I would do it for him. I would never stop looking... So I had to do it for myself. I couldn't stop searching, I had too much will to live.

I was going to make it.

I pushed myself off the tree trunk, feeling the strain in my over worked muscles. For some reason, I had a gut feeling about the line of trees about seven or eight feet away to my right. My heart was telling me to go there.

I stumbled almost the entire way, amazingly not falling once, and found myself on a path. And not just any path... THE path. The one that led to the campsite... I recognized a cluster of wild daisies Logan had pointed out to me a day or so before.

But I was so turned around, each way looked like it could be the right way...

Luckily, I didn't have to figure it out. To my left, I could hear hurried footsteps, rapidly making their way in my direction, accompanied by the glow of a flashlight peeping through the tiny gaps in the bushes around the corner.

My heart raced. I was frozen where I stood, unable to move.

Was it...?

"...Anabelle...?!"

It was.

I weakly lifted my arms to shield my eyes from the bright, intrusive light, wobbling back and forth. They instantly dropped back down once the switch clicked it off.

In the brief darkness after staring into the flashlight, I could hear Logan's footsteps rushing over to me.

"Ana, holy shit...!" His husky voice raced from his lips in a strange mix of panic and relief.

I tensed as his hands clasped my shoulders. They felt hot against my skin. I felt one of them reach to the hem of my wet, blood stained tank top, lifting it just enough to see the bite mark. I winced at the sensation of oxygen hitting the wound.

As the moon lit my vision again, I could see Logan furrow his brows at the punctures, and he muttered a swear under his breath before turning his eyes back to mine.

"L-Logan...?" My voice whimpered out helplessly, and even as dazed as I was, when I looked up I could see the definition in his face.

I felt a massive weight lift from my shoulders as I took in the masculine age lines around Logan's eyes and mouth, and above his furrowed brows. Even in the darkness, I could see his mysterious hazel orbs clearly, full of worry and concern.

I wanted to reach out and touch him, wrap my arms around his waist and never let go. Even if I had the nerve to do that, though, I wouldn't be able to. My arms and fingers were so stiff and numb, I could barely move them an inch.

"It's me, it's me..." He assured me quickly, his hands feeling my upper arms and then reaching up to cup my cheeks, being cautious of my busted lip. "Jesus, you're ice cold...!"

When he removed his hands from my shoulders and hastily yanked his backpack around to his front, my body began to tremble in a mixture of chill, stress, and strangely enough, a tiny bit of joy.

The trembling quickly grew into full on tremors racking my body as I realized I had just lived through something that 99.9% of people don't survive... I was incredibly lucky.

I still couldn't believe I actually found Logan. Here he was, standing in front of me pulling the plaid blanket from our picnic earlier that day from his backpack. He was here... I found him...or he found me.

Whatever the case, I just couldn't wrap my mind around it.

"Hey, it's okay," Logan's voice became hushed and gentle as he noticed the tears brimming in my exhausted, withered eyes, "It's okay now... I can't believe you're standing here."

A small sob escaped my lips, triggering a series of three more that racked my ribcage. Logan draped the blanket over my shoulders and wrapped it tightly around me. It felt heavenly, putting a fuzzy barrier between my body and the frigid chill of the air.

I was safe, but the pain wasn't gone; neither physical nor mental. The trauma that I had just endured was beginning to settle into my bones, and as much as I hated it, I was breaking down in front of Logan.

"I-... I almost..." My voice choked out as I stared up at Logan, cracking and wavering with the overwhelming emotions I was feeling.

Logan slowly reached his hands up, wiping away a few tears that had dripped onto my ice cold cheeks. My breathing began to hitch as my mind darted through all the horrible events mother nature had put me through.

It took me by surprise when Logan swiftly moved his hand from my cheek to the back of my neck, gently reeling me into his warm, toned body. My heart thumped as his other arm looped around my shoulders, pressing me close to him. As shocked as I was, I still couldn't quite control my breathing, or the water works streaming down my face.

"I almost...-" My soft voice involuntarily escaped from my throat again, raising up an octive as I tried to complete my sentence, but my vocal chords wouldn't let me.

And neither would Logan. After reaching up once more to dry my tears, he gently placed his thumb over my lips and stopped my words.

"Shhh... I gotcha," He hushed my tearful, shaking whimpers as he ran a soothing hand up and down my back, "I'm right here, you're safe now. Everything's okay..."

He then scooped me up into his strong arms, and I felt protected as I nestled into his chest, enjoying the intense body heat he was giving off. "Let's get you home."

The sound of Logan's words speaking quietly into my ear comforted me as I let my head rest against his shoulder, taking long, steady breaths... Home. I had a home with him.

Nothing had ever made me feel warmer inside. Nothing had ever sounded and felt so right to me.

My sobs eventually shrank down to small sniffles, and the rhythmic rocking of Logan's footsteps as he effortlessly carried me through the trees began to lull me into drowzyness. I blinked hard every time my eyelids fluttered shut, trying to stay awake.

"I had a dream about you..." I whispered into Logan's neck as he walked, taking in the familier scent of his cologne that had been faded with the day.

"Oh, yea...?" He quietly mumbled back. His scruffy chin brushed against my forehead as he spoke, giving me goosebumps.

My eyes were closed, but it sounded like he was smirking. I weakly nodded my head.

"You were in a field of flowers..." I continued to mumble, "Under a willow tree... You said you were looking for me."

"Doesn't really sound like my scene," Logan replied as he walked along, keeping a sturdy grip on me, "But maybe that was one of those premonition dreams, 'cause I was looking for you. All night."

I suddenly heard a door creak open, feeling a rush of warm air cover me like a blanket... It felt amazing. I could hear hollow floorboards creaking under Logan's boots, and the overwhelming aroma of coffee and cigars smacked me in the face.

We were definately back at the camper, which was a blissful feeling all on its own. I was safe with my best and only friend, after a night of pure agony. I was home.

"Think you can muster up the strength to change into some dry clothes?" Logan quietly asked me as he set me down on the couch, and I opened my eyes.

Just that short amount of time that Logan had been carrying me had recharged my battery to about 4%, so I looked up to him and nodded.

"Mhm..." I hummed weakly, "I think so."

He then yanked my duffel bag out from beside the couch, effortlessly lifting it with two fingers as if it were filled with feathers or cottonballs. He set it down on the cushion beside me, unzipped it, then strolled into the kitchen, running the water in the sink and reaching up to grab a glass out of the cabinet.

I was so exhausted that I didn't look very hard through my clothes. I just snatched the first pair of underwear I saw; a lacey white thong, and same with the mismatched bra; a coral pink push up.

For my clothes, I grabbed a baggy black long sleave and a pair of gray drawstring sweatpants that hung low on my hips.

My legs were wobbly as I stood up, and I felt pretty light headed, but somehow I managed to stagger my way into the bathroom and shut myself inside. I held my hand hesitantly over the light switch, dreading flipping it. I knew my reflection would look like a scene out of a horror movie.

For a split second I considered just changing in the dark, but that wasn't a good idea. In the weak, wobbly state I was in, I could just imagine my feet getting caught in my pants, causing me to trip and fall into the shower curtain or the toilet, and I didn't need that happening.

So, I bit the bullet and turned the light on, staring straight into the mirror, instead of trying to avoid it like my original plan.

I instantly regretted it. The girl in my reflection barely even looked like me.

My ponytail was still sort of in tact, but it had drooped down toward my neck. There were bumps and stray hairs jutting out all over my head, and everything looked stiff and matted, like one big tangle. I was too tired to even begin to deal with it.

I stared myself in the eyes, observing the sunken in look they had, not to mention the dark circles under them that stood out like sore thumbs against my pale, drained cheeks. All my make up was washed away, and the right side of my bottom lip looked a little swollen and bruised. There were scratches and small bruises all over my arms and legs, which I hoped would fade within the next two or three days.

Finally, my eyes dropped down to my clothes... The black denim pants were ripped up in a few more places now, but still wearable... After a wash to rid them of the caked on dirt and blood, of course. Maybe a few washes...

The tank top, on the other hand, was ruined. It was stretched out, ripped up, and stained brownish-red at the bottom corner, where it somewhat shielded my wound. It wasn't too much of a loss, though. It wasn't really my style.

I couldn't believe Logan had seen me like this...

I sighed, cringing as I lifted my arms over my head, taking the trashed tank top with them. The skin around the bite mark stretched, stinging as the dried blood crackled over the punctures. I gritted my teeth, mentally cursing that god damn coyote for the millionth time tonight.

I avoided looking at it in the mirror, already knowing it wasn't pretty. I changed my clothes as quickly as I could, then flipped the light switch and made my way back out into the living space.

Logan sat on a stool in front of the couch, which was drapped in towels. On the small table next to the digital clock, which read 12:37 AM, the white first aide box was popped open.

"You all right?" He asked me as he turned and looked at me, giving me a quick once over with his eyes. I gave a small nod of my head, and then he reached out and gave the couch a pat. "C'mere. I'm gonna fix up that nasty bite mark."

I eyed the materials laid out on the small table before reluctantly padding back over to the couch and taking a seat.

"That doesn't sound fun..." I grumbled as I glanced at the small bottle of rubbing alcohol in Logan's hand.

"Well, it probably won't be." He replied honestly as he used his free hand to place on my shoulder and guide me onto my back, "But if I don't do it, you'll get an infection, and your problem'll be way worse."

I sighed as I watched Logan soak a cottonball with the clear, strong smelling liquid, wringing some of the excess back into the bottle.

I knew he was right, but still didn't make me feel any better about it.

When he reached out and gingerly lifted the hem of my shirt above the wound, exposing my stomach, my cheeks burned in a deep blush as his fingertips unintentionally grazed my skin. I averted my gaze from him, hoping he wouldn't notice my change in color.

"All right, now hold still," Logan quietly instructed me as he paused, cottonball raised, "This is gonna sting."

I nodded and scrunched up my face as I awaited the cold sting of the alcohol, which came quickly. My body's anticipation caused me to flinch away as a reflex the moment the cottonball grazed my skin.

I yelped at the burning sensation, and that was just from a tiny drop of alcohol. I really wasn't looking forward to more...

But I knew I had to toughen up. So I quietly apologized to Logan, who patiently waited while I relaxed my muscles and gave him a nod, the go-ahead to try again.

This time, when he dabbed the cottonball over the deep punctures in my side, I didn't flinch or pull away... No matter how much I wanted to.

Instead I just clenched my jaw, whimpering at the intense burning sensation. It felt like someone had set fire to my skin, or soaked it in battery acid.

"I know it hurts," Logan muttered sympathetically, "That little bastard got you good.."

He finished up with the rubbing alcohol, setting that aside for the moment, and reached for a roll of gauze in its place. He unraveled a small square, ripped it off with his teeth, and gently pressed it over the set of canine teeth marks. He topped it off with a large square bandaid, sealing the staryl gauze underneath. Wow, that was fast...

"Okay," Logan grunted as he reached for the rubbing alocohol soaked cottonball again, "Flip. We're halfway done."

I groaned inwardly as I slowly rolled onto my side, facing the back of the couch. I absent mindedly ran my hand over the neat and tidy bandage, squeezing my eyes shut and awaiting the cool sting for the second time around.

I cursed this time when I felt Logan brush the wet cottonball against my injured flesh. It burned intensely for a few seconds before Logan's hands pressed a sheet of gauze and a bandage over the area.

"There." Logan mumbled softly, tugging my shirt back down over my midriff. "All done."

I let out a tense exhale as I gingerly rolled over to my other side, facing him. The small lamp on the table next to the couch illuminated the cozy living space of the camper in a dull orange light. The corners in the kitchenette and by the door were still a little dark and fuzzy, though... The glow didn't quite extend that far.

Ignoring the lingering, sterile burning sensation underneath the bandages, I stared up at Logan as he began placing the first aide items back inside the kit. I nuzzled my head into my pillow with the old floral pillow case, feeling my stomach twist into knots as I studied the toned muscles in his arms and shoulders while he leaned over to place the white box in the drawer.

He glanced back down to me a lot quicker than I expected him to, catching me staring. A deep, bashful blush crept up from my neck, spreading to my cheeks and ears as Logan raised an eyebrow at me.

"What...?" He asked me, his voice so soft and husky that I could barely hear it.

It sent shivers up my spine, and an overwhelming tingling feeling spread from the pit of my stomach, down to my toes. For some reason, I just couldn't look away from him.

"Nothing..." I whispered back, sheepishness showing in my eye and voice, "I'm sorry... I'm just tired, I guess..."

Logan nodded and stood up, grabbing my folded up red blanket off the end of the couch. With a quick flick of his wrist, he had it unfolded and neatly draped over my body. The next thing I knew, he reached over to the lamp. The switch on the lamp made a soft 'click' as he shut it off, leaving the room in sudden darkness.

I closed my eyes, snuggling into the couch.

"Get some sleep, kiddo." Logan's tired voice told me as he trailed toward the small ladder that led to his loft, "You had a hell of a night... Wake me up if that bite starts bothering you, okay?"

"Mhm..." I murmured back, already half asleep. "...Logan?"

"Yea?"

"Thanks..."

"Don't mention it, Ana... I'm glad I got you back."

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To Be Continued


	13. Chapter Twelve

AN:: blaaah, I'm so sorry for the long wait on this update, I've been struggling with a bit of writers block :/ but I'm back on track now! Let's hope it stays that way.

Also, I was thinking of doing a few chapters in Logan's perspective, and wanted to know what you all think about that? Please leave me your opinions in the comments! Xx

Thank you!

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Water rushed around me... Loud, swirling, crashing... The current forcefully ripped me under the foamy surface, dragging my flailing body across the rocky bed of sand below.

No matter how hard I fought, frantically thrashing my arms and legs about, I couldn't manage to burst back through the surface. My body flipped and spun around as the current propelled me further and further downstream.

My lungs felt as if they were shrivelng up, screaming at me to take a breath before my reflexes took over and did it for me...

My heart was pounding. I needed air...

Just as my body hitched to automatically inhale, I felt a hand reach down, plunging through the water and taking hold of my wrist.

"ANABELLE!"

A distressed voice that I couldn't quite pinpoint shouted my name, echoing off into the distance...

Suddenly, there was no more water. Everything was calm and quiet... I found myself standing in a beautiful, luxurious foyer, underneath a stunning crystal chandelier and next to a huge, elegant wood stair case leading up and around the corner, into mystery.

As my eyes gazed about, I took in the high ceilings, sophisticated decorations and soft lighting of the large room... The space felt very warm and welcoming, as if it were safe to be there. This place was completely gorgeous...

But where the hell was I?

My feet seemed to propel forward on their own, slowly bringing me to a picture on the wall. I stared up at it, but couldn't quite get a good look at the photo inside the polished silver frame. It was as if there was a glare over the glass, but the chandelier wasn't bright enough to do that, and as I looked around behind me, I couldn't spot any windows allowing sunshine to leak in.

Slowly, my hand reached up to touch the glass of the picture...

"Ana."

I flinched and my hand snapped back, my head whirling around and slinging my long dark hair as I searched for someone standing around me. The long corridor was empty, though. I was definitely the only one there... Yet, it felt like there was a presence looming over me, watching my every move.

I slowly began to walk down the long, elegant hall, waiting for the voice to speak again. I was positive that it would.

"Anabelle..."

My footsteps stopped. It was that same damn voice I'd been hearing for days, bouncing off the walls inside my head.

"Hello?" My voice softly echoed out as I continued down the corridor.

"This way..."

The voice lured me down the hall a few more feet before speaking to me again.

"Here..."

My body automatically turned to my right, where a bookshelf promptly spun around, revealing a very futuristic elevator pod, basked in a white fluorescent glow.

I felt my eyes blink in astonishment as I cautiously leaned my upper body inside the elevator. Didn't this stuff only happen in 007 movies...? But before I knew it, I was sealed inside, and jolted into motion. Judging by the dropping feeling in my stomach, I assumed I was headed downstairs.

When the doors opened again, I stepped out into a hallway that matched the elevator: futuristic and fluorescent. It seemed to stretch on forever to my left, but to my right I could see an enormous, heavy duty metal door a few yards down.

"Ana..."

The mysterious whisper seemed to be emitting from behind the door... Something inside my mind could just tell. It beckoned me toward the huge barrier of steel, leaving me breathless as they smoothly slid open...

Before me was a room... An enormous space in the shape of a dome. The walls were completely metallic, shimmering from the light leaking in from the hall. My feet carried me through the door's threshold, and the metal plates slid shut behind me.

I was suspended on a platform, leading out a few feet to a control panel of some sort... But that was it. I peered down over the side of the platform and gulped... There was no floor in sight.

"Anabelle..."

I lifted my head up, and was surprised to see a man in a wheelchair sitting at the control panel with his back to me. I narrowed my eyes in confusion, searching the entire room for another entrance... But there were none.

I stared at the man in utter confusion. How did he get in here...?

Just as I began to open my mouth to speak to him and ask him that very question, he suddenly lifted his arms and placed a strange looking helmet over his bald head.

There was a long pause... Then suddenly, the entire room became engulfed in a red glow. I screamed, feeling the floor fall out from beneath me, but my voice was muted. I was suddenly swirling in a sea of red fog, littered with glowing white orbs that almost looked like stars.

A searing pain abruptly invaded my mind, but there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to scream, to move my arms and legs, but it was as if nothing of me existed anymore besides my mind...

I was nothing but a white orb floating through the red mist... Whispers of all sorts of different voices clouded my brain, growing louder and intensifying the pain.

But one voice was most persistent.

"Don't let it control you..."

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"Ana...!"

I woke up frantically to a shout of my name and a pair of hands constricting my shoulders.

Still mentally trapped in my dream, I gasped and thrashed about, the pain in my head still present.

"ANABELLE!" A deep voice screamed. My eyes were squeezed shut, but I could hear cabinet doors slamming and objects pelting the walls around me. The pair of hands gripped my shoulders tighter. "It's me! It's Logan!"

My eyes shot open, instantly taking in Logan's face in the darkness. Glancing behind him, I could see objects from the kitchen floating and twirling about near the front door, smacking against each other as if they were trapped in a tornado. The bathroom door was swinging on its hinges, and the cabinets In the kitchen clattered loudly as they opened and closed.

My breathing was heavy and rigid, and as I shot my gaze back to Logan's face, everything stopped. The pain ceased, and all the objects gripped by my out of control telekinesis instantly plummeted to the floor with a series of 'thud's... Except the digital clock, which whiplashed on its cord, snapping from the outlet in the wall and beaming Logan right in the middle of his forehead.

"OH MY GOD...!" I gasped loudly as Logan toppled backwards over the coffee table from the unexpected blow. "Logan!"

I jumped up off the couch, forgetting about the fresh wound in my side and falling right back down in pain, grasping the bandage.

When Logan let out a groan, I immediately pushed my pain aside and rushed over to him.

"Holy shit, I am SO sorry...!" I desperately apologized as I knelt next to his dazed form laying sprawled on the floor. "I didn't mean to do that...!"

There was a black and blue bruise in the middle of Logan's forehead, right next to a cut with a bit of blood leaking from it. I started to get up to grab the first aide kit, but stopped when I noticed the cut had almost completely healed, only leaving behind the small drip of blood.

Slowly, Logan rose to a sitting position. As the bruise on his forehead faded away into nothing, he reached up and wiped the blood away, glancing at the red smear on his hand before turning his eyes on me and raising an eyebrow.

I stared at him for a moment in the dark. I had totally forgotten about his ability to heal.

"Are you okay...?" I peeped out meekly.

"I'll live.." Logan assured me in a low, husky voice, "I could ask you the same thing. You havin' a nightmare?"

I sighed, reaching up to touch my hair, which was still gross and matted from my super fun adventure the day before. I made a face, wishing I wasn't sitting in front of Logan looking like this... But it couldn't be helped.

"Um... sort of..." I muttered in response, "It didn't start out that way... Did I wake you up?"

Logan stood up, reaching his arm out to help me up. I grasped his hand, trying to fight off a blush as I carefully stood and ignored the pinching feeling in my bandaged side.

"I was already awake." He admitted with a small shrug, "Having trouble sleeping for some reason... I heard you mumbling in your sleep, and when shit started defying gravity, I figured something was wrong."

As Logan spoke he began picking up the random items laying around the camper and put them back in their rightful places.

"I'm sorry..." I groaned another apology as I sat back down on the couch, "It's never been this bad before... Ever since last night, my telekinesis just... Spikes."

"Wasn't it already doing that?" Logan asked me from the kitchen where he was putting the last items away.

"No, I mean... Spiking really bad. You just saw it happen." I said to him, and he made his way back over, taking a seat on the couch next to me. "That's how I got out of that cave. My telekinesis spiked... And I was just in the right place at the right time."

"Well it saved your life... So it can't be all bad." Logan murmured back.

I shrugged. I guess he was right... But honestly, it was that voice that saved my life, or at least pushed me to save my own.

"I just wish I had it under control..." I sighed while staring off at nothing.

There was a long pause between us, before Logan piped up, completely changing the subject away from my mutation.

"You up for a personal question...?" His voice was soft, just above a whisper.

My stomach jumped a little, caught off guard by his request. I thought it over for a moment, wondering what he wanted to ask me, then turned to look at him. His eyes looked glassy and sleep deprived... Almost troubled.

"Sure." I complied with a nod, trying to hide the nervousness in my voice with a tired smile. "Go for it."

Logan seemed like he was sorting through his thoughts as I awaited the personal question, his expression serious. Finally, his voice broke the air.

"... How did you get those scars on your back?"

At the sound of his words, my breath hitched in my lungs. If I would have been drinking something, I definitely would have choked... I wasn't expecting a question quite that personal.

Instantly, I ripped my eyes away from Logan, staring at the coffee table intently. How had he seen them...? I hardly even remembered them half the time, which is how I preferred it.

"When I came down to check on you, you were laying on your stomach..." Logan began to explain, as if he had read my thoughts. "Your shirt was bunched up a little, and..."

His voice trailed off, and my cheeks burned red in embarrassment as I kept my eyes forward. Was I ready to talk about my past...?

"... Too personal?" Logan asked, and I stole a glance at his searching eyes.

My expressions and feelings must have been so readable to him. I wanted to reply, but I only stammered and struggled for my words.

"Hey, Anabelle..." Logan whispered, unexpectedly reaching his hand over and resting it on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I know it's really none of my business... I just saw them and-"

"My step-dad," I blurted out, cutting Logan's sentence short. My voice dropped to a whisper as I finished my thought, "... The scars are from my step-dad..."

I don't know why, but I was embarrassed. I could feel Logan's eyes cast down on me, but I didn't have the nerve to look back up at him.

"Your step-dad...?" Logan repeated almost inaudibly.

I nodded and picked at a loose thread in the couch.

"Yea... He would, uh... Get drunk and the smallest things would set him off... The cable going out, the phone ringing too much... Usually, no matter what the problem was, he would find any reason to make it my fault. And then..." I explained, and my voice began to tremble in emotion.

"He hit you..." Logan growled, finishing my thought for me. I tried not to focus on the simmering anger in his voice.

I still wasn't able to bring myself to look at him. These were my deepest, darkest secrets being revealed, and I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about it... But Logan was the only person on this planet that I trusted, so if I couldn't tell him, then who could I tell?

"Yea... He did..." I said, still pulling at that loose thread, "He... He usually used his belt, but sometimes he made me go in the backyard and break a branch off a tree for him to use."

Finally, I glanced upward. Logan was staring across the room as he listened to my story, his eyes searing with fury. He didn't say anything, but looked back down at me with a pressing expression.

"... Ana..." He spoke slowly, peering deep into my eyes and searching for answers, "Did he ever... Touch you?"

I knew that his second question broke the one per day rule, but I dismissed it.

I shook my head, thanking God I could at least answer no to that question. If Troy would have ever done that to me, I guarantee he would have been dead a lot sooner.

"No." I replied, "He tried once, the night I left home... He had me pinned in the kitchen... But he was so drunk, I just..."

I paused, taking in Logan's apparent anger. His dark eyebrows were furrowed, and his scruffy mouth was upturned in a scowl. As he huffed breaths in and out, I could see a vein bulging and throbbing in his neck. I hung back with the ending of my story.

"Logan...? What's wrong?"

"Just thinking about some pervert mother fucker putting his hands all over you makes me sick... " Logan rumbled back to me, his voice low and menacing. "Scum like that doesn't deserve to walk this Earth."

"He doesn't." I stated, feeling my stomach churn at what I was about to say, "... I killed him..."

Logan's head snapped, his eyes narrow and puzzled as he stared at me. I flipped my trembling palms over, holding them out in front of me for Logan to see. Scars similar to the thin lash marks on my back jaggedly lined my palms... They had been left there from the razor sharp glass shards that my hands fell victim to the night I had killed Troy.

"These scars on my hands are from when I..." I mumbled nervously, caught off guard as Logan reached out and gently grasped both my fragile hands in his strong masculine ones.

We were both silent as Logan peered at the jagged scars on my palms. My stomach fluttered and a chill ran up my spine as he traced over the scars on either palm with his thumbs. As he did this, I peered into his face. He was starting downward with intense eyes, obviously deep in thought.

Before I could say anything else, Logan completely surprised me by abruptly pulling me into an embrace. My entire body tensed up at the feeling of his bare arms wrapped around me, pressing me gently into the rock hard muscles of his chest and torso. My heart was pounding intensely, and just like always, my cheeks felt like they might melt from the blush spreading over them.

But as I inhaled Logan's scent, resting my cheek against his gray tank top, a wave of comfort washed over me. I felt my muscles melt into him, and I closed my eyes as the surprised, tense feeling passed.

"I won't ever let anyone hurt you again, Ana.. ." Logan whispered to me, sending chills up and down my spine, "I'll protect you."

I didn't say anything, just nodded my head ever so slightly. My entire life, I had never believed in anyone, not even myself.

But sitting there, just the two of us in the darkness of the camper... All my faith was in Logan.

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3 weeks later...

"Ana, do me a favor and run back over to the cold section real quick, I forgot the cheese."

Logan and I were strolling through a Sweetbay grocery store, restocking on food and some other things we needed in the camper.

I nodded an 'okay' to him as I left him in the shampoo aisle, making my way across the store to the cold foods. It was a Monday afternoon around one o'clock, so the store was practically empty. I'd only spotted two or three other customers browsing around besides the two of us.

I hummed along to the faint song playing on the store's intercom: Drops of Jupiter by Train, while I briskly browsed the dairy aisle up and down, scanning for the brand of provolone Logan usually grabbed.

Finally my eyes caught the bright red packaging, but it was all the way on the top shelf... My hand instinctively reached up to try and snatch it, but it was a good three or four inches out of my grasp. I strained and stretched a little, giving up with a frustrated huff after a second or two. As I stared up at the package, a lightbulb clicked on inside my head.

I turned my gaze over my right shoulder, scanning the aisles behind me for any customers or lingering store clerks.

No one was around in this part of the store except me... Just how I wanted it. I turned my eyes back up to the package of provolone cheese, zeroing in and coaxing my mind to take control. It wobbled a bit, just about to lift away from the metal hook it was dangling on, when the sudden sound of rickety shopping cart wheels stole my focus.

The package halted as I whipped my head around to see who was approaching, hoping they hadn't seen anything. My lungs exhaled a soft sigh of relief as I realized it was just an elderly woman, too busy trying to simultaneously steer her cart and peer at her shopping list to notice me.

She turned down the canned soup aisle, and I waited until the scooting sound of the wheels faded a bit before turning back to the task at hand: Operation Retrieve Cheese. This time, I tried to work a little faster, tilting my head of dark hair to the side as I concentrated.

A smile curved my lips as the package sailed smoothly into my awaiting palms.

Over the past few weeks, I'd gotten a lot better at handling my telekinesis. I was no where near perfect, but my practice had definitely paid off. It was sort of like a muscle, in a way... You had to work it out.

Logan had even bought me a small set of weights ranging from 1 pound up to 15 for me to practice lifting. At first, even the smallest ones were a struggle, but by now I could easily move the ones that weighed 9 and 10 pounds.

I had also found a brand new Frisbee just laying in the grass in one of the many campsites we passed through, and now we used it quite often. I was getting pretty good at only using my mind to fling and catch the plastic toy, but like I said before... No where near perfect. A tiny purple bruise beneath my left eye proved that.

I peered down each aisle as I hurried back through the store, finally spotting Logan at the end of the junk food aisle. I turned on my heel, tossing the cheese into the cart as I approached him.

"Special delivery." I joked with a grin.

"That was quick." Logan replied as he glanced at the cheese, then at me, then at the display of chips in front of him.

They were buy one get one free so Logan loyally selected BBQ, then told me to pick another flavor. While he traveled down a few feet with the cart, I scanned all the different varieties of chips I had to choose from.

Original, Salt and Vinegar, Ranch... Then my eyes seeked out the orange bag labeled Cheddar and Sour Cream, one of my favorites. My mind was made up, so I grabbed the bag off the shelf. It crinkled in my fingers as I walked back to Logan, who was dropping two family size boxes of Cosmic Brownies into the cart.

"That should hold ya for a while." Logan told me with a smirk as he wheeled the cart around the corner, "Sugar fiend."

"It's a serious addiction." I responded casually with a shrug.

"Maybe I should stage an intervention." He played along with the joke as we strolled over to one of the cashiers.

He was a skinny teen with curly brown hair and glasses, and he didn't say a word as he began scanning the items from our cart that Logan and I loaded mechanically onto the belt.

I noticed the boy occasionally stealing glances at me, his cheeks turning a rosey shade of pink. I could tell by the way that his shoulders were defensively hunched up toward his ears that he was shy, worse than I was. So, I flashed him a small, friendly smile before glancing up at Logan. He was lugging a case of root beer from the cart, slinging it up on the belt.

"I got two of these." He informed the cashier, who fumbled for the handheld scanner and zapped the 12 pack's barcode twice.

As Logan pulled the case of soda back off the belt, he flashed the boy a stiff nod and a halfway friendly smile.

I continued to load the last few items onto the belt, and noticed that the boy was keeping his gaze down. Poor guy, Logan must have freaked him out... I couldn't really blame him, though. Logan was pretty intimidating if you didn't know him.

When the cart was empty, I leaned against the metal casing of the conveyer belt, taking a look up at the store's red, white and blue star decorations. They made me smile, a happy reminder that my favorite holiday was just around the corner.

"You ready, Ana?" Logan's voice brought my attention back to Earth, and when I glanced over at him, he was grabbing his change from the cashier.

"Yup."

I pushed myself off the conveyer belt, then followed behind Logan as he wheeled the cart out into the parking lot. The town we had decided to stop in for a while was a pleasant little town somewhere in Georgia called Tybee Island. It was a quaint, friendly places where all the residents seemed to know each other, but visitors were clearly welcomed with open arms.

The air basking inward through town was mild and comfortable, coming straight from the Savannah River's white, sandy beach just a mile or two away. It smothered the sun's searing summer rays, making the day absolutely perfect.

"That kid had a thing for ya." Logan teased me as we wheeled up to the truck, parked all the it's lonesome under a shady tree in the corner of the lot.

"Who, the cashier?" I asked as he unlocked the doors, and I began passing him the bags from the cart. "Nah. He was just a little shy...it was sweet."

But Logan only gave me a look and shook his head as he loaded the cab with our groceries.

"He was definitely diggin' you, Ana," He insisted, "Kid's face was red as a tomato... It was probably those big blue eyes that caught his attention."

Now it was my face that was red as a tomato. I had never been good at taking compliments, and it certainly wasn't any easier when they were coming from Logan.

From him, even the smallest compliment like 'your hair looks nice today, Ana.' sent me over the moon.

"Why are you blushing?" Logan asked with a smirk as he turned around to grab another bag. "What, I can't think you have pretty eyes?"

Oh, yea... And now he was beginning to call me out when I started into my bashful, blushing fits...

"I-I'm not blushing...!" I quickly defended, "It's just the sun."

But judging by the playful grin and raised eyebrow on Logan's face, I could tell he knew I was lying. Oh well, wouldn't stop me from doing it.

"All right, that's everything." He announced as he loaded the last of the groceries into the cab of the trusty old truck. "Let's get goin'. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"Yea, I'm pretty hungry." I called back over to him as I rounded the camper and opened the passenger side door.

Logan already had the engine started by the time I climbed into my seat, and was holding his truck's cigarette lighter to the end of a fresh cigar. As I shut my door and pulled on my seat belt, I inhaled the sweet, smokey smell... Some people might think the smell was overwhelming or intolerable, but it actually calmed me.

When the end of the cigar was glowing cherry red, Logan clamped his lips shut to keep it from going anywhere, and clicked the lighter back into its tiny slot.

"You like spaghetti?" He asked me while rolling the windows down, allowing the wispy smoke to drift out from the cab.

I nodded and made a hum of approval, leaning my elbow against the open window and enjoying the soft caress of the breeze against my sun kissed cheeks.

"Good, me too." Logan responded as he steered the truck out of the parking lot and into the street, heading for a red light. "I've been craving it for a while now."

As we pulled to an idling stop at the red light, I peered at my reflection in the side mirror. We'd been hunkered down in this little beachside village for almost a week now, so my skin had a much deeper bronze glow than usual. If my blue eyes didn't stand out enough already, the tan amplified them even more, and my lack of make up that day seemed to make them look bigger.

My hair began to whip around wildly as the truck accelerated from the red light and picked up speed. It didn't take long for me to get tired of trying to tame it, pointlessly smoothing the strands back or tucking them behind my ears, so I yanked a hair tie from my wrist and did my best to tie it up in a bun.

With my vision free, I sat back and enjoyed the town passing by. Families with children were walking the sidewalks lined with cozy little shops and restaurants, young couples sat on shaded benches holding hands... Everyone seemed so happy and carefree.

"Can I turn on the radio?" I asked as I turned away from the window.

Before Logan answered me, he took a long puff off his cigar, squinting his eyes as he tasted the smoke. His left arm was resting against the open driver's side window, and he effortlessly controlled the wheel with just his thumb... We were only going in a straight line, so I guess it couldn't have been that hard.

He used his right hand to reach up and pluck the cigar from his scruffy lips, and I felt a bubbly feeling tug at the pit of my stomach as I admired his masculine, chizzled facial features, and the way his snug black t-shirt hugged the muscles of his biceps for about the millionth time...

"You know you don't have to ask." Logan reminded me, making me feel a little sheepish under his sincere Hazel eyes. "Just none of that computer techno music... Shit drives me up the wall."

I laughed and rolled my eyes as I leaned forward in my seat and reached for the radio dial. I flipped through the stations, finally settling on 93.3, a rock station. All I Want by A Day to Remember had just started playing, causing my head to automatically start bobbing with the beat.

When I sat back in my seat, I began rustling through the plastic grocery bags, looking for one of the boxes of Cosmic Brownies. My eyes lit up as I spotted the light blue cardboard packaging, and I heard Logan chuckle as I started to rip the top of the box open.

"You really are addicted." He said with a shake of his head and a smirk.

Even though he was looking out the windshield and not at me, I shot him a playful glare as I bit into the soft, chewy hunk of chocolate heaven.

"... All right, gimme one." Logan blurted out after a few seconds, clamping his cigar in his lips and holding his palm out.

I instantly turned my eyes up to look at him, raising an eyebrow. Just a week ago, he had seen how wired the Cosmic Brownies made me, and swore I was crazy for eating them.

"Aah, coming to the dark side, are you?" I teased him while reaching into the box, pulling out another individually wrapped brownie and slapping it into his awaiting palm.

"Yup," Logan muttered a reply, stubbing out his half smoked cigar and resting it in the ash tray for the time being, "You reeled me in."

I giggled between chews as he ripped the plastic from the small chocolate pastry with his teeth, then took a big chomp of a bite.

His eyebrows raised as he chewed for a second, swallowed, then turned to look at me.

"Not bad." Logan admitted, sounding a little impressed. He popped the last bite into his mouth, chewing slowly. "They're pretty rich, though. Damn."

"I tried to tell you they were good!" I exclaimed as I finished off my brownie as well, crumpling up the wrapper and stuffing it into the truck's 'trash box', which was an empty root beer 12 pack case.

Logan smiled my way, making my heart melt without even realizing it, before staring back out through the windshield.

Throughout these past few weeks, it felt like there had been some sort of emotion conjuring and festering deep in the caves of my mind and the pit of my heart... But it only made itself known in wavering bursts when I looked at Logan for too long, or when he smiled at me that way or teased me... I didn't know what to make of it.

Part of me wanted to call it a crush, but most of me thought that was just plain silly. Grown women didn't have crushes on grown men. That was something that applied to middle schoolers, maybe teenagers in high school... But I confused myself, because if what I was feeling wasn't a crush, then what the hell was it?

Maybe it was simply the fact that Logan was the first man I'd ever really been around since my last sort-of boyfriend, Wes, when I was 21... Right about the time my mother and snake of a stepfather wrapped their fingers around my life, starting to slowly wring everything meaninful out of it.

I tried not to focus on the horrible memories of my life back home in Oregon, and instead concentrated on the view passing by outside my window.

The town was fairly small, and we were already trailing toward the outskirts and into the more rural area.

Out across a field of tall, swaying grass, I could see the edge of the beach, and a large boardwalk littered with town residents zipped by. As the field of grass, as well as the beach goers thinned out, the truck drove down a blank stretch before passing an abandoned, boarded up church. Gradually, we headed into an elegant tunnel of weepy willow trees.

I knew we were getting close to our secret 'spot'. So close, I could hear the luscious waves lapping at the sandy shore, even over the sound of the truck's tires scraping against the crumbly pavement below. Soon enough, Logan veered the truck off to the right a little, slipping through a gap in the willows that was barely noticeable unless you were really searching for it. This path led out into the beachy forest, the trees becoming a gorgeous mix of tall Pines and the ashy green willows.

The clearing we called our own for now came into view, looking amazing as ever. It was the perfect little rounded out thicket in the trees, just the right amount of space for the truck, our wicker chairs and a campfire, which was already set up in a ring of stones. The ground was sturdy, packed in sand and fallen pine needles.

And then, my favorite part of it all, was a patch of tall grass, a sandy path cutting through it, straight to the beach on the other side. I had never been so close to the water in my life, so I was definitely taking advantage of it... Hence my golden tan.

Logan whipped the truck into its proper spot, with the camper's window facing the beach. Then, he rolled the windows up, and shut off the engine.

Somehow, he managed to pop the door open with his elbow, and all the grocery bags gathered in his hands.

"Time to get cookin'!" He said excitedly, before hopping out of the cab and slamming the creaky old door shut with the heel of his boot.

I rolled my eyes and smiled as I jarred my own door, and slipped out into the fresh air. If there was one thing Logan got excited about, it was food. Well, food and beer. And cigars.

While Logan was busy setting up what he needed to cook the pasta for lunch, I took it upon myself to casually stroll out past the willows and the pines, through the tall grass and out onto the sand. A smile instantly tugged my lips upward as I took in the sight of the crystal clear river, the sea foam green water rhythmically lapping at the shore.

I looked to my left and right as a calm breeze whispered through, combing my hair off my shoulders. There wasn't a soul in sight in either direction, which added to peace and tranquility of it all.

The sun was high in the sky, casting down its happy yellow rays with not a single cloud to get in its way. I closed my eyes and took in the feeling of my face and exposed shoulders being warmed gently. If I could, I would have stayed there forever, in that exact spot. I knew Logan and I were nomads, though, and we wouldn't be here for more than another week. We never stayed in one place for too long.

So, I was enjoying every minute while I could.

I stood there taking in the natural beauty for what only seemed like a few minutes, but must have been much longer, because before I knew it I heard Logan calling out for me.

"Ana!" His deep voice rang out from behind the tall grass. "Spaghetti!"

My stomach suddenly felt empty, growling and rumbling as the smell of garlic and tomato sauce faintly began wafting out to me. I turned on the heel of my black converse low tops, digging a crater in the sand as I hurried back to our little camp.

Logan was huddled by the campfire, where he had suspended two small cooking pots over the flames; one for the pasta and one for the tomato sauce. He had two green plastic bowls set out, and looked up from labeling the sauce over the pasta as I approached him.

"There you are. You really like the beach, huh?" He said as I took a seat, and he handed me one of the green bowls, along with a fork and a cold root beer. He had all the bases covered.

A huge smile plastered onto my face as I tucked a long strand of hair behind my ear and twirled my fork into my spaghetti.

"Yea... I've never been to a beach, ever. I lived in Oregon my entire life, and my family never had the money to go anywhere fun." I explained, taking the first saucy bite of pasta.

It tasted amazing, hot and savory and full of the flavors of tomato, oregano and garlic. I made a hum of satisfaction as I chewed slowly, then took another bite.

We were quiet for a little while, just enjoying the mild weather and the soothing sound of the water just a few feet away from us.

"You should let me cook something for you, one of these days." I piped up as I stabbed my fork into the noodles and spun it around.

Logan was already finished with his first bowl of spaghetti and was filling up his second, raising his eyebrows at me.

"You never told me you knew how to cook." He replied, sounding interested. He scooped up a fork full of noodles, blowing on them before biting into them.

"You never asked." was my innocent response, along with a shrug. "I can cook lots of things... Tacos, chicken, casseroles... I sorta did most of the cooking growing up."

Logan looked at me, making a face and nodding his head as if he were impressed.

"I'll have to hold you to that offer." He stated before munching down another bite of pasta.

I finished my first bowl and filled another, only about halfway, and I still couldn't finish it all.

"Whew, I am stuffed." I announced, standing up and patting my stomach. "That was really good, Logan. Thanks."

"No problem." Logan said back, finishing off his second helping of spaghetti.

I stepped around his chair and made my way toward the camper so I could wash my bowl, but something jutting out of the sand suddenly caught my shoe. I lurched forward, fumbling the saucy bowl in my hand. I was able to catch it... Upside down. Red sauce flung all across my green tank top and my arms, and some even clung to the ends of my hair.

"Aaah man...!" I hissed, and turned around to show Logan, my face scrunched up in disgust.

He took one look at my clothes, then at my face, and couldn't fight back the laughter. I rolled my eyes, but a grin forced itself onto my face as I scolded him for laughing at me, speaking between my own giggles.

"Now I need another shower..." I sighed when my giggles finally died away, holding the hem of my tank top away from my body and peering down at it.

"... I have a better idea." Logan objected after a short pause.

My face was puzzled as I lifted my head to look at him, but when I saw his devilish grin, I instantly knew what he was thinking. My eyes widened and I quickly turned and dashed for the camper, but I wasn't fast enough.

I let out a squeal as Logan's strong arms wrapped around my middle, sweeping me up off the ground like I weighed nothing. Before I knew it, I was tossed over his shoulder and watching the ground rush by as he made his way toward the water.

"Logan!" I shrieked in protest, struggling against his grip.

"There's no point in struggling, I'm already halfway there!" Logan laughed back at my girly screams. "Plus, if you go inside, you'll just get sauce all over the camper."

I could tell that this was just an excuse to toss me in the water, and he was having way too much fun with it.

Before I could say anything else though, Logan trumped out into the waves and dove underneath the surface, dunking us both into the cool, refreshing water. I sat under the surface for a second, enjoying the feeling of the soft flow of the gentle current combing through my hair. When I popped back up, Logan was already waiting. His wavy brown hair was now slicked back away from his face, the droplets of water catching the sun just right on his cheeks.

"Much easier than a shower, right?" He asked me, his tone playful.

I gave him a joking glare before slinging my hand across the top of the water, catching him completely off guard with a splash. He spat out a mouthful of water as I burst into giggles, then raised his eyebrows at me.

"Oh, that's the game you wanna play?" He asked as a grin formed on his face, "I can play that game."

I gasped as he sent a giant wave my way, soaking my hair all over again.

I retaliated with two splashes in a row, one from each hand, and this set off an all out splash war.

After about twenty minutes or so, we tuckered ourselves out and just settled into the water, floating about in all our clothes, enjoying the gentle flow of the waves and chatting about nothing.

All my life I'd never known what true paradise was... But as I sat there in the crystal clear Savannah River with Logan... I was sure right there had to be pretty close.

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To be continued...


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